


Stay Away, Sweet Misery

by redkislington



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Also notice how the rating is forever changing, And by worse I mean better, Awkward Conversations, Boys are silly and oblivious, Comfort, Cursed Creature, Curses, Derek is a gentleman but he knows the loopholes, Derek is being necessarily difficult, Deviation from season three, F/M, FOR NOW (dundunDUN), It's cool though you're still the best dad ever even if you are Johnny Cage, Kate Argent is really just a passing mention, Like a lot of deviation, Loopholes being making out against the sink, M/M, Marking, Mates, Oh gosh this is getting long, Only gets worse from here, Pre-slash warning is ineffective!, Rating may or may not have changed, Sheriff Stilinski y u no have a name?, This was written at 3 am, Wing hugs!, Wingfic, alpha pack
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-06-20
Updated: 2015-02-18
Packaged: 2017-11-08 05:21:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 35
Words: 68,935
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/439600
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/redkislington/pseuds/redkislington
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles has a secret that no one knows about, not even his dad or Scott. Derek finds out by accident one day.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. If I Let You In (You'll Crawl Inside)

**Author's Note:**

> The fic with winged stiles – my brain's sleep-deprived excuse for why hes the only one not allergic to shirts. Title from The Maine's 'Misery'. Also, I apparently have a thing with wingfic. Sorry?

 

They came in not long after his mom died. They were mostly gray, speckled with soft, earthy colors, feathers darker at the tips like nightfall. They were probably about as long as he was tall when he stretched them out all the way, but, he never really knew, given that no one else really knew about them, not even his dad.

 

He'd made it a point to start hiding them, at first with gauze wraps when they were still weak enough to keep held down with them, and layered clothes. When he started getting control over them, he moved on to heavy, thick wraps, layered over the gauze, wrapping tight, to the point it was hard to breathe sometimes.

 

He was always so careful hiding them, even when werewolves came into his life, he always made sure his wraps were secure. He only really let the wraps off in the seclusion of the woods, not trusting his dad to not see them or catch the feathers left over the house, and knowing in the daytime he had less of a chance getting caught there.

 

When Stiles found himself in the woods, then, the wraps and his shirts crumpled to the forest floor with his wings stretching out behind him after a three week stretch of binding them, Derek staring at him with wide eyes, he did what he would've done if anyone else would've seen. He panicked.

 

_No. No, no, no. This isn't happening. Just a bad dream, it's just-_

 

His thoughts cut off when Derek took a step toward him, and he scrambled back, gathering up all the wraps and his clothes and rushing back to his jeep, tucking the wings back and already starting to wrap them up before Derek could make another move.

 

He was just pulling his t-shirt over his head when he got back to his jeep, and really, at that point, he shouldn't be surprised seeing Derek there, already leaning back against it, like he'd been waiting there the entire time. He frowned at Stiles, and Stiles felt fear curling up cold and heavy in his chest, making it even harder to breathe than it already was. “N-no. You can't...” Stiles swallowed, looking away. “You shouldn't have seen that.”

 

Derek stared at him for a long time, then pushed off the jeep. “You can come to me if you need to let them out again. Someone else might see them if you keep doing it out here.” With that, he just... left, walking past Stiles like he hadn't just stumbled his way into this huge, secret part of him. The part that no one else knew about, not Scott or his dad.

 

Stiles shuddered and fell back against his jeep, feeling like he was about to collapse, trying to breathe realizing that his secret was out, that Derek knew, that someone knew, and he was... he was okay.

 

He didn't go to Derek's for a whole month, avoiding him, and wrapping them tighter than before with that shaking fear of being found out by someone else making his hands unsteady the entire time.

 

 

The next time he let them loose to stretch out, he wasn't at Derek's. He went back to the same part of the woods. He barely had plaid button-up off before Derek was there, growling at him. “What did I say?”

 

Stiles stared, feeling himself shake, the feathers underneath gauze and heavy cloth vibrating with it. “I... I...”

 

Derek shook his head, growling still, then grabbed Stiles by the arm, pulling him through the woods until they got to the old Hale house. The hunters had stopped using it as their hideout for a long time – and that was a terrifying time for him, always worrying about a hunter coming out and stumbling onto him.

 

Derek pulled him inside, then, when he got the door shut behind him, looked at Stiles, like he was waiting for him.

 

Stiles felt the blush stretch to his chest. “U-um... could you... not, you know, watch?”

 

Derek stared for a moment more, before he rolled his eyes and walked past Stiles. He swallowed, listening until he heard the back door close behind Derek, then let out a breath and pulled his shirt up and over his head. The wraps pulled tight around him and he gasped, clutching at the bandages wrapped too-tight around his chest. How had he gone through most of the month like this? With a grimace, he untied the knot at the front, unwrapping them enough until he could stretch the wings out, the gauze and cloth strips loosening and crumpling down around him, and he sucked in a greedy, deep breath of air.

 

“How long has it been like this?”

 

Stiles yelped and jumped, spinning around and nearly falling on his ass to see Derek watching him from the doorway. He self-consciously tucked the wings behind him, watching Derek scowl a little more at him, then stuttered. “F-for a... a while. Um...” He swallowed. “No one else knows...”

 

Derek's scowl lightened at that. “No one?”

 

Stiles nodded, looking away. He could still feel himself shaking all over, feathers tickling his back and sides. He startled again when a hand fell onto his shoulder, and he gaped at Derek. He wasn't... grouchy looking, like he usually was. There wasn't any disgust or fear or anything that he'd thought he'd see when someone found out. Derek actually looked... a little like he was about to smile. But that was impossible. Derek didn't...

 

“You're safe here.” Stiles blinked when Derek pulled him in, wrapping strong, strong arms around him. He shuddered when Derek's fingers brushed over the feathers, feeling the marks left over from his wraps. He felt warmth shiver through him, sparking pleasantly through his wings.

 

Stiles pulled away, tucking them around himself, ignoring the way he was blushing and heating up all over. “Um, thanks...” He took a few steps away, curling his fingers into the feathers blanketing his sides. “Why are you doing this, though?” He bit into his lip. “Why not just... let me do what I did before? Why are you helping?”

 

Derek frowned at him, just staring at him for a long time. Stiles swallowed, clutching his arms tighter around himself, feeling panic welling up inside of him ready to burst into shortened, frenzied breaths and helplessness. Then he shrugged. “You've helped me enough. Why can't I return the favor for...” He hesitated a beat, eyes flickering to the wings before meeting Stiles' eyes again. And... Stiles had to take several breaths before he could convince himself to calm down a little more. “For a part of my pack?”

 

Stiles gaped a little, the rising feeling of panic fading away. “I'm... I'm pack?” _Even after this?_ He added on in his head.

 

“Yeah.” Derek got that look from before again, an almost smile, and he nodded. “You've been pack for a long time, Stiles. There's nothing that's going to change that.”

 

Then... Derek was just gone, brushing past him, leaving Stiles in the middle of the burnt out Hale house with his wings curled around him, arms closed around himself, feeling... safe for the first time in a long, long time.

 


	2. I'm Feelin' Pretty Lonely, Baby (Just Let Me In)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Derek's POV when finding out about Stiles. Or the part where Derek has a secret, too, but he doesn't think Stiles would take to his as well as Derek did.

 

Derek thought on some level that maybe, after everything he'd been through for so many years, that he'd finally broken. He was seeing Stiles in the forest, bandages and shirts piled around his feet, and beautiful charcoal wings spread out around him, speckled with shades of the earth and forest, colors faint but just enough for him to pick out against the gray. And Stiles stood there, frozen, looking terrified, more than Derek had ever seen him before.

 

He wanted to reach out, dig his fingers into the feathers, feel if they were as soft as they looked, bury himself in them and curl them around him and Stiles and just hold the boy in his arms. He... had to admit he'd been getting closer and closer to the boy, their bond well into friendship, even with as much as they fought each other. They trusted one another, and... Derek knew that he was caring more for Stiles everyday, and the wolf was starting to make it's intentions known even more.

 

Seeing Stiles half naked in the forest, in his territory, vulnerable and even more special than Derek knew before, it made the wolf crave him.

 

He stepped forward, and Stiles scrambled away, gathering everything up and just running, wings tucking gracefully behind him. Derek growled, wolf surging up for a moment, wanting to give chase, pin Stiles to the ground, bury himself in the feathers and just claim him, over and over again on the forest floor until they both broke. He reeled himself in quickly, and ran, moving quickly to the jeep and waiting until he saw Stiles emerge from the trees, looking scared and trembling, smelling so strongly of fear and panic and exhaustion. “You shouldn't have seen that.”

 

Derek felt a sting at the words, as if he wasn't good enough to know, like Stiles didn't trust him enough. Derek stared at Stiles, taking in how much he was shaking, already wrapped up in bandages again, his plain t-shirt already pulled over his head, button-up clutched in his hands, knuckles white around it. Stiles... was Stiles afraid Derek was going to hurt him because of this? “You can come to me if you need to let them out again. Someone else might see them if you keep doing it out here.” He felt a possessive rush come over him the thought of anyone else seeing Stiles like this, even knowing that his father and Scott had probably already seen them well before him, and he turned to move back into the trees, before he made the claim he wanted to put on Stiles known when he lost the small amount of control he had over himself.

 

He let out a breath, already far enough away for Stiles to think he was out of range to sense the boy. Stiles' scent turned from fear to a soft sort of anxiety, sour, and then relief, the scent sweet and making the tension tightening up Derek's muscles flood out of him. He listened, until Stiles' scent faded and the jeep's engine roar went with it, then made his way back home.

 

It... made sense on some level. Stiles had always been different from every other human Derek had met, caring and responsible and selfless to a fault, risking himself so many times, for everyone, even Derek when he barely knew him. Stiles scent was also always just a little off, spicer than a usual human's, just enough for the subtle difference to barely be noticeable unless there was someone there to compare the scent to. Even then...

 

Derek knew how Stiles felt now, when he found out about Scott. Derek wanted to discover every little thing he could about Stiles' condition, just as much as he wanted to bury himself in the feathers. But... Stiles was scared so easily by him seeing them, he didn't want to find out how much worse it'd be asking him questions about it.

 

Again, Derek felt a stab of pain, but he swallowed it down, pausing a moment before he let himself out in the clearing around his childhood home and waited to see if there was anyone there, hunters or the Argents or any of his betas, then sighed when nothing came up, just walking inside and crawling onto the rough mattress he used upstairs and closing his eyes. He dreamed of being wrapped up in warmth and soft down; smooth, freckled skin against his front, dark gray blanket of feathers around him everywhere else. In his dream, he smiled, genuinely and fully for the first time in a long, long time.

 

 

Stiles avoided him then, not coming to any pack meetings, keeping his window locked with a curtain blocking the view inside of his room, and not even coming into the forest at all. Derek could smell the discomfort radiating from Stiles outside of his window and even on Scott, and he worried.

 

Then he picked up on Stiles scent a little over a month after their encounter in the woods, and he ran to it, tracking Stiles down until he caught him in that same part of the woods, button-up already crumpled to the ground and started with his shirt. Derek growled. “What did I say?”

 

Stiles shook, looking a lot more pale than he usually was, and like he was having trouble breathing. Derek heard the strained wheeze of his lungs, too-tight wrap of cloth and gauze with the padding of the held down wings squeezing his body almost to a breaking point. Stiles stuttered, and Derek's growling deepened before he grabbed Stiles and hauled him through the trees to the house.

 

When they were safe away from any prying eyes that could be wandering through the woods, he turned to Stiles, watching him, waiting, wanting to see the wings unfurl again around him.

 

Stiles blushed, and Derek followed it down with his eyes to the collar of his shirt, then wondered if it went any further, wanting to tear the cotton away to see, to follow it with his tongue and-

 

“U-um... could you... not, you know, watch?”

 

Derek looked back up to Stiles' eyes, still brown and wide and scared, but there was a little bit of disbelief there. Derek rolled his eyes and walked past Stiles to go to the back door. He paused a moment with it open, then just closed it, listening as Stiles huffed out a breath, then the ruffle of cloth as he pulled the shirt over his head. Derek quietly moved back through, peering around the corner keeping him from view to see the boy gripping the bandages around him, gasping labored breaths, and finally plucking at a knot until the wraps tumbled down around him, gray feathers pushing and rising up, bandages dangling from wings arching up and taking up most of the room, so much bigger than Stiles, making him look so fragile and small between them, but at the same time he looked so strong with them. They folded back in and out a few times, until the bandages were fallen to the floor with his shirt, and Derek took them in, memorizing the graceful flow that the wings moved in, the way Stiles' back flexed with it, lips parted and eyes drifting shut.

 

Suddenly, Derek wanted to know if Stiles was born this way, the same way Derek was born a werewolf, or if he got them some other way, and how. He wanted to know everything. “How long has it been like this?”

 

That... didn't quite come out how he wanted. All his questions were colliding and blending together. _Is this how Stiles feels all the time?_ Stiles had whirled around, stumbling, and the wings moved behind him, hiding from him. Derek frowned, wanting to pull them out and let Stiles stretch them out again. “F-for a... a while. Um...” Stiles swallowed, and the wings twitched further behind him, flush creeping over his skin again. “No one else knows.”

 

Derek wasn't sure if he'd heard Stiles right. “No one?” He watched Stiles nod, feeling a swell of possessiveness come over him. He was the only one who'd seen Stiles like this, he wanted to _stay_ the only one that saw him like this. He understood Stiles' fear when Derek saw him that first time, and why Stiles was shaking now.

 

Stiles jumped when Derek touched his shoulder, watching the boy gaze up at him with surprise, his heart beat slowing down gradually the longer he did. Then he looked confused, staring at Derek with his head tilting slightly, and Derek felt his lips twitch with it before he pulled Stiles in. “You're safe here.” He muttered as he greedily brushed his hands over the feathers, feeling how soft they were, ruffled only by the wraps. He swallowed back a growl when Stiles shuddered in his arms, gasping quietly at the touch. He wanted to dig his fingers in, to see just how much pressure he could give before he had Stiles moaning, clutching at him, desperate.

 

Stiles wiggled his way out of Derek's hold, though, dark feathers curling around his hips. He was blushing, red splashed prettily over his face, throat and partway down his chest, and Derek just barely stopped himself from pinning Stiles to the wall and licking over the blush, feeling the heat against his tongue.

 

“Thanks.” Derek was pulled out of his thoughts by Stiles' voice, and he looked up, seeing Stiles backing up a few steps, curling his own fingers into the soft feathers. “Why are you doing this, though?” Stiles bit into his lip, turning already-dark lips even darker, redder. “Why not just... let me do what I did before? Why are you helping?”

 

Derek frowned, and Stiles eyes went a little wide like before, and his breaths got a little shorter, frenzied, his arms tightening around himself as the sour scent of panic filled the room. Derek... didn't want to say, didn't want to say that the reason he was helping was only because he wanted Stiles to himself, he wanted to keep this secret just between them, so he could be the only one other than Stiles to touch them, mark Stiles and the wings with his scent and his teeth and claws. Then he... he had to answer, before Stiles thought maybe he shouldn't know this, he shouldn't be the one to know. “You've helped me enough. Why can't I return the favor for...” He trailed off, swallowing down the words 'my mate'. His eyes flickered down to the wings as the words resonated inside of him, made the wolf want to howl. Stiles was his _mate_. He swallowed and listened to Stiles breathe for a few seconds before looking back up. “For a part of my pack?”

 

Stiles stared at him, mouth hanging open, the scent of panic dissolving into relief and disbelief. “I'm... I'm pack?”

 

Derek's lips twitched again, and he nodded. “Yeah. You've been pack for a long time, Stiles.” _More than pack._ He didn't say. “There's nothing that's going to change that.”

 

And the smell of Stiles emotions, the relief and happiness and excitement, it was just... too much, too much to handle without pouncing on him. He brushed past Stiles, inhaling the scent of his mate and brushing his fingers over the feathers before moving up to the bedroom upstairs. He was going to make sure Stiles kept his wings out here, and knowing the boy he wasn't going to want to stay around Derek shirtless. _Unfortunately._ Derek smirked to himself as he grabbed up one of his shirts, ripping two long holes into the back. _But this will be just as good._

 

 


	3. Tell Me What Do You See (When You Look At Me)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles and Derek spend some more time together and Stiles has a worried moment thinking about letting others know about him.

 

Stiles remembered a lot of times that his secret almost got out, sitting there on Derek's couch, in his too-big shirt with the back ripped out.

 

They were usually when he was running from – or, you know, into, because Derek's off-hand comments sometimes about Stiles having no self-preservation instincts weren't that far off – whatever had decided to terrorize Beacon Hills for the week.

 

He remembered keeping Derek and himself above water for two hours somehow, and then he remembered how much they were twitching the entire time, irritated, the water lapping at the both of them ruffling the already ruffled feathers out of place and he had to grit his teeth not to show.

 

He remembered the many – many, _many_ – times that his dad would catch him and grab him by the back of his shirt, and he'd almost have a heart attack, because maybe if he'd only worn a t-shirt his dad would've noticed the wraps underneath, or they would've come undone. He grimaced to himself when he remembered the time they almost did, pulling tight from his dad's grip and he almost had a panic attack from it.

 

So many times during school Scott would just place his hand right there, and Stiles would have to remember to breathe. It was so, so much worse after Scott got his furry little problem because he didn't know if he smelled different than everyone else, or if Scott would be able to just... just tell that Stiles was different.

 

And then there was Derek. Derek who always slammed him into walls and Stiles would feel a zing of pain and a bit of a... a sensation he couldn't really name through the wings. He would agonize over if Derek noticed how he seemed more breathless than he probably should for just being slammed into a wall by muscle and werewolf, or if Derek could see the tension in him whenever someone got to close to his back because Derek just seemed to have an eye on everything at every moment. And Derek coming back and living so close to his usual haunt to take everything off and breathe. And Derek always climbing in through his window without any warning and maybe seeing the wraps and question him – or worse, ripping them away. And Derek... Derek _knew_. He was still trying to wrap his head around that.

 

_I... I should tell my dad..._

 

Stiles shuddered and felt his head spin a little at the thought. “Ohh... my god I can't... I can't do this...” He ran his hands roughly over his hair before tucking his head between his knees and just breathing. _This sucked. Stupid Derek and his... stupid forest and stupid wolf senses and crap._

 

“Stiles?”

 

 _Speaking of..._ Stiles let out a long breath and sat up. He'd almost broken down in front of Derek before. He would show no weakness. Nope. He... he was okay. He wasn't... he wasn't okay, but he was going to be. “Hey.” He said lamely, overly cheery. Derek arched an unimpressed eye brow. “Sup, sourwolf.”

 

Stiles was going to go smack his head several times against the wall as soon as he could get out and away from witnesses, because he didn't think his whole act of 'totally fine' was going to get much better if he did that.

 

Derek stared at him for a while before he shook his head and sighed, muttering to himself a little before he nodded outside without a word. _Aaand were back to not talking. Awesome._

 

Stiles huffed and stood, pausing before he went out and curling the wings around himself tightly before stepping out. He still managed to hit the tip of one of them off the door frame. _Stupid overly huge wings..._

 

He looked up when he bumped into Derek and followed his eyes to his jeep, that was now in the small cleared lot in front of the Hale house instead of parked on the side of the road out of view where he left it. _Oh..._ Stiles clutched a little tighter at the shirt and looked up at Derek. “Guess I have to leave now?” He didn't really want to. Not that he'd enjoyed spending time with Derek but... it was more getting to have everything out like this. He wasn't worried that someone would stumble in and see him, he could stretch the wings out and everything was painless – mostly, recent life of being chased by monsters and all, comes with an array of injuries.

 

Derek huffed softly and glanced down at him for a few moments. Then he cleared his throat. “Do you... need help with the...” Derek trailed off before his face pinched up and Stiles watched, a little stunned that Derek Hale, sourwolf extraordinaire, had just offered to help him with something as mundane as wrapping his wings up.

 

Okay... maybe mundane wasn't the proper word for the situation, but... whatever.

 

“Um... sure?”

 

Derek's features relaxed and he... he didn't quite smile but his lips twitched for a second before shifting into a frown and he nodded and walked into the house again. Stiles rolled his eyes as he followed after. Would it kill him to show any sign of emotion? Other than anger, kill, and _stop-talking-Stiles-I'll-rip-your-throat-out_?

 

When he was back in the living room, Derek was already standing there, curling the wraps around his fingers like he was almost... nervous. Stiles blinked, and then Derek was glaring and... yeah, he was just seeing things, had to. Derek didn't get nervous, just as much as he never laughed or smiled or showed any signs of being anything other than a robot... or... werebot.

 

“Stiles.”

 

Stiles held his hands up at the growl and pulled Derek's shirt off, draping it over the back of the couch before hesitating a moment, and then turning his back to Derek and tucking his wings in as close as he could to his own body.

 

He shuddered at the first touch of Derek's hands firm on the feathers and bit into his lip, hard. That's... a really weird feeling. Before he never really got the chance to really... take it in when Derek touched them, seeing as he wriggled out of his touch pretty damn fast, but... _huh_. It was weird, but... pleasant, nice... almost... _oh_.

 

Stiles' toes curled in his sneakers and he had to swallow back what would've been an embarrassing sound – that probably would've introduced Stiles' throat to Derek's teeth finally after the many promises if it got out – when Derek's hand pressed harder, all warm pressure and fingertips digging in a little. The feathers shuddered around him and he twitched, a wing swinging out and smacking again the hard wall of werewolf behind him. “C-can you just... do it, please?”

 

He grimaced at the stuttering, but Derek just eased up, patting the feathers before he held a hand to Stiles' side, cupping the start of the gauze wraps there, then he paused. “Up.” He grunted, smacking Stiles' arm. He lifted both up and swallowed as Derek slowly curled the first layer over the feathers, pressing down slightly with his free hand. This was... even weirder. It was like... letting Derek in on another secret, sort of, inviting him in to be this big part of it.

 

 _Oh, that's..._ Stiles huffed out a breath that he hoped didn't sound too shaky when the hand pressing the wings firm to his back stroked down along them, down to where the tips flirted with where his back met the curve of his... _whoa._

 

“ _Stop_.” Stiles wrenched away, curling his hands around himself and staring up at Derek. Derek who was standing there looking as innocent as could be, like he _wasn't_ just about to cop a feel. Stiles licked his lips, before he grabbed the gauze and wraps. “That's... bad Derek.”

 

Derek arched a brow at that, then stepped forward. “Let me see them.” He held out his hand, gesturing to the pile of bandages in his hands and he clutched them a little tighter.

 

“Dude, you just almost touched my ass. Hell no.”

 

Derek stared at him for a long, long time, and Stiles had to keep himself from twitching. He didn't expect a lot out of this day, but he sure as hell did not see Derek trying to feel him up anywhere close to happening. “I won't do it again.” Derek's low, growling voice brought him back and he stared, gaping into eyes that were halfway red. “Now let me see.”

 

Stiles stared for a few moments more, before he hesitantly handed the bundle over. Derek huffed and spun Stiles around then pushed the wings down, wrapping the gauze over it efficiently, around his chest and down to the ends where Stiles never did, just loose enough to where it was snug but still comfortable. Then without stopping for a second he started wrapping the heavy cotton around him, the same way; a few times around his chest and then twice over his stomach. Stiles tested it when Derek knotted it on his side, smiling a little when nothing moved. “Awesome.”

 

Derek looked over him, then face scrunched up a little, before he handed Stiles his shirts. Stiles pulled them over his head, grinning again when he found he could move a lot easier than usual, too, and the wraps didn't constrict around his chest or anything. “I think you need to do this for me from now on. Like, you should use your stalking skills for good to come in before I go to school to help me.”

 

Derek... didn't look impressed. Stiles shrugged on his plaid and grinned at Derek before he turned to leave. He stopped when he felt a large hand clap onto his shoulder and turned to look back at Derek again. Derek didn't say anything, just... stared. “Okay...” He shrugged out of Derek's hold, hearing a huff behind him as he opened the door and walked out. Derek was acting so weird...

 

When Stiles hopped up into his jeep he paused for a moment, fingering his keys which were dumped on the passenger's seat. He was going to tell his dad. It... it would be okay. It would. His dad wouldn't react that bad... really. At least... he didn't think...

 

Stiles sucked in a deep breath and started the jeep before driving off the Hale property. Seriously. He could handle werewolves and hunters and lizard monsters any day of the week. Why should he be so afraid of tell his dad one little tiny thing? He'd be totally fine... totally... fine.

 


	4. Pressures Building With Time (I Made It Up In My Mind)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles tells his dad. Derek is also confusing him. A lot.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Meep, this was later than I wanted. Just couldn't find a moment to really sit down and write. :/ Hopefully I'll get another one up sooner rather than later.

 

 “Holy f-uum.” Stiles glared at Derek, while Derek glared at Stiles and, hopelessly, licked at the hand over his mouth. Derek's face scrunched up but he didn't remove his hand. Welp. Couldn't blame him for trying?

 

After a few moments of their glaring contest – which Stiles was going to convince himself that, while he was definitely not winning, at least he was putting up a good fight – Derek pulled his hand away, wiping it off on Stiles' sleep shirt and springing off of the bed.

 

“What the hell are you doing in my room, no, no, in my _bed_ at...” He paused to look over at the clock. “Six in the freakin' morning? At the rate you're going you'll get the world record for creepiest creeper things ever done and I'm including the Twilight creeper and-”

 

“Stiles.” Derek growled. “Shut up.”

 

Stiles stared, sitting up in his bed. “Dude. What the hell is up with you? I mean, the telling me to shut up thing, that's nothing new but...” He gestured to his rumpled sheets and made a noise somewhere along the lines of a dying cat, watching Derek's eyebrows raise high at it and he was not going to blush and figure out what the hell Derek was up to. “I just woke up to you staring at me not even five inches from my face and like, straddling me.” He made some more gestures and Derek watched, unimpressed. “Not typical Derek Hale behavior.”

 

Derek was quiet for a while, then he shrugged, and said. “You haven't told your father yet.”

 

Damn him. “N-no... I... how do you know that?” Derek was quiet again. Stiles groaned and dropped his head to his knee. “Seriously. This new stalker lifestyle of yours has got to stop.” He made a face into his sleep pants. “It's creepy.”

 

Again, Derek, who really seemed to be the master at ignoring and avoiding things, changed the subject. “You have school. Get up.”

 

Stiles grimaced and swallowed down some lame argument about how Derek wasn't his dad and Stiles wasn't a werewolf so he had no business ordering him around, but Derek was right, and if he was late again he was pretty sure his dad would kill him. He groaned as he pulled himself up, then yelped as Derek grabbed him by his shirt and reeled him over, before pulling it up and over his head. “W-what are you doing?”

 

Derek just grunted at him, before he was plucking at the wraps and pulling them off, and Stiles relaxed a little bit. It'd been about a week since the first time they did this, and Derek had made it a habit to come over – usually after Stiles was awake and usually not in his bed – and fix his wraps. By now, he was used to it. Mostly.

 

He bit into his lip when Derek's fingers skimmed over the inside of his wing, close to where feathers met skin, a part of him that he'd found out rather quickly was really sensitive. “Why haven't you told him yet?” Derek muttered as he started with a fresh strip of gauze. Stiles swallowed and shook his head. This, he wasn't used to. They were usually quiet during this. Derek was usually quiet period, and he always seemed much more content with Stiles being the same.

 

“Um...” His left wing twitched when Derek's hand slipped and stroked down it. He ignored any feeling that it gave him, especially the slow building warmth in his chest, that was quickly moving its way down south, which was... not good. “I, I've been lying to him for a while. For...” He closed his eyes. “For almost ten years. And, I mean, look at me...” The wings twitched and he stopped, frowning down to the floor, feeling Derek's hands hot on his back. They didn't do this. Why was he talking?

 

He shifted a little, feeling Derek's hands moving with him, just... holding on. “Derek?”

 

“I like them.” Derek muttered, moving a hand up to where his wings folded, pressing in at the arch gently before tracing down with his nails, making Stiles shuddering. He moved to pull away, but Derek's other hand, holding onto his wrist, was just enough to stop him. The werewolf didn't speak for a while, and Stiles was sure he wasn't going to say anything more when he finally did. “If... something goes wrong you have a place with me.”

 

Stiles mouth fell open and he resisted the urge to turn and just gape at him because, really? Derek had been acting so weird since he walked in on Stiles but, seriously, this... this was just.... _what?!_

 

“Um...” Stiles mumbled then felt Derek start working at wrapping the bandages around him again, working fast until he got to tying them off. “I... I'm a little... but, yeah, okay, fine.” He huffed when Derek finished up and stood, moving to the window quickly. Stiles wanted to reach out, stop him but... he was still so very, very confused about this whole conversation, and he really needed to... not think about possibly living with Derek because that way lies only bad, bad, awkward and embarrassing things, but Derek just... stopped anyway, his thumb sliding along the sill for a moment.

 

“You should, tell him though. Soon.”

 

And... with that Derek practically flung himself out of Stiles room, leaving him there, wondering a little bit if werewolves could get sick, because that was really the only excuse he could come up with for how Derek was acting.

 

After a moment of just staring after Derek, Stiles glanced over at his clock and jumped into action, pulling on water shirts he got his hands on. “Crapcrapcrapcrap _crap_!” Dammit, stupid, _stupid_ Derek.

 

Stiles ran out, not knowing Derek was outside below the sill, a soft smile tugging at his lips before the werewolf was off into the forest as the teen sped off to school.

 

 

“Um... dad?”

 

Sheriff Stilinski turned toward his son, frowning when he saw the worried look and the way he was twitching, picking at his sleeves. “Stiles?” The boy twitched again, biting into his lip. He looked overwhelmingly nervous, not even meeting his father's eyes. “Stiles, what's wrong?”

 

Stiles glanced up, then swallowed. “I, um, there's...” He rubbed at the back of his neck before he grumbled and started pulling off the plaid overshirt. He paused with the tee and looked over to his dad. “Um, you might want to sit for this or... or something. Yeah.”

 

Stiles didn't move until the Sheriff was seated at the table, watching his son with a mix of worry and suspicion. Then Stiles pulled the t-shirt off and he shot back up at the sight of all the bandages. “Stiles what the hell happened?!” The sheriff narrowed his eyes. “Who did this to you?”

 

Stiles stumbled over his words for a moment before he sighed, rubbing his hand roughly over his hair. “N-no one. Dad just... wait a minute, okay?”

 

Slowly, the Sheriff fell back into his seat, staring at the bandages for a while. Then Stiles pulled at the knotted mess of gauze and cloth at his side, and they were falling, slipping down and then rising back up when they caught on...

 

The father's mouth dropped open slightly as he saw gray unfold behind his son. He was just about to ask, question what happened to his son and when this happened and how, but then he saw the look on Stiles face. He slowly got up and pulled his son into his arms, feeling him tense for a moment before he relaxed.

 

After a few moments passed, Stiles slowing breathing the only sound in the room, the Sheriff pulled away, clearing his throat. “How, um...” He grimaced, rubbing a hand over the back of his neck.

 

“Uh, well, they...” He fumbled over words for a few seconds before he shook himself and settled back, tucking the wings behind him and pointedly ignoring how his dad watched them move. “They, I don't know exactly how, I just... I know that...” He frowned. “They... came in not long after, um... after...” He trailed off, and judging from the pained look on his dad's face, he knew exactly what he couldn't bring himself to say. He swallowed. “I... I didn't tell you because... I...” He shrugged and let out a strained laugh. “I mean, really, how many kids have come out to their parents saying, 'oh, hey, look at me, I have wings', right? I mean, I don't really... know how well that's going to go down and-”

 

“Stiles.”

 

He looked up, shutting his mouth, and his dad just gave him that same exasperated smile, rubbing a hand down his face. Stiles relaxed; the same one... same was good, same was very good. His dad huffed out a breath and crossed his arms. “I am pissed you didn't tell me sooner, but... I get it. Just... next time something like this comes up, tell me? No matter how unbelievable it may be?” He hesitated a moment, and Stiles took that moment to gather up his clothes, wondering if he should wrap up again or just go up and pull on one of Derek's pre-shredded shirts. Then he jumped when he felt his dad pull him into another hug, and Stiles smiled a little bit. “We're all we got left, okay? So, anything, you talk to me.”

 

Stiles choked down the ridiculous urge to cry and nodded. “Yeah, dad, I will.” Though... maybe telling him about the whole werewolf invasion to his life should wait until at least another night. “Um, I'm going to... go take care of some homework now, yeah?”

 

The sheriff nodded, waving his son off with a shake of his head. Stiles rushed upstairs, feeling like the weight of the world was being flung off of his shoulders and he felt so relaxed he would probably just melt into the floor if he stopped a second to let himself. He smiled a little when he heard his window creaking open outside of his door and pushed it open to see Derek just crawling through.

 

The werewolf paused when he saw Stiles, looking down at the wings for a moment before his eyes flicked over to the bundle of clothes and wraps in his arms and finally up to his beaming face. “How'd it go?”

 

Stiles rolled his eyes. “Yeah, 'cause I'm sure you weren't creeping outside of the window listening in on the entire thing.” Derek didn't respond, just leaning down and sliding the window closed again to keep open the cold, and finally crossing his arms and arching a brow at him. Stiles huffed and dropped the clothes then picked up one of Derek's shirts that was tossed under his bed. “It went, a lot better than I expected. Like, mostly, he just... seemed shocked, but, yeah, that's a given, but it was the same. Well... as... the same anything can be when these come into the picture.” He twitched one of his wings for emphasis and pulled the shirt over his head.

 

Derek didn't say anything for a while. Actually, he didn't even move for so long that Stiles was convinced he could just flop down onto his bed and crack open his history book to get his studying done without any interruptions.

 

Of course, he'd only read about one sentence on the page before he felt his bed dip beside him, and when he looked Derek was sprawled next to him, reading over his shoulder. Stiles rolled his eyes, and bit his lip to stop from snarking at the Alpha because one, he really had to get this reading done, and two, he didn't really feel like getting his back reacquainted with the wall again any time soon.

 

He did grin when Derek yawned though, stifling it just a second too late. “Is the big bad wolf bored?”

 

Derek huffed. “No. Just...” Derek growled a little bit – and Stiles tried to ignore how the hairs at the back of his neck stood up and the wings shifted nervously – and ground out. “Haven't been getting much sleep.”

 

“Oh, well, you could crash here while I study if you, you know, wanted.” Crap, he... really did not mean to say that. But, he couldn't exactly take it back. That'd just be mean. Now that he really looked at Derek he did look a little bit pathetic; dark circles just barely noticeable under his eyes, and looking like he was ready to konk out at any second.

 

Derek looked him over for a moment, then shrugged. “Wake me up when you want me to leave.” Was all he said before he shifted around and was just... out. Just like that. Damn. Why couldn't Stiles get to sleep like that?

 

Stiles bit into his lip and moved as carefully and quietly off the bed as he could to his desk, lest he wanted his throat ripped out by waking the sleeping wolf. Though, surprisingly, he was able to concentrate a little better with the soft, steady breaths behind him.

 

It's only about an hour and a half later that he's all done with studying and homework, and he spun around on his chair to face Derek. Derek who was still passed out on his bed and...  _oh_ .

 

Stiles watched with a stunned expression as he saw Derek curled tightly around one of Stiles' pillows, face rubbing slowly against it and making barely audible snuffling sounds. Never before that moment did Stiles ever think he could consider Derek anything close to cute or... yeah. Yeah, Derek cuddling his pillow was...

 

Slowly, like he was stalking a frightened animal, Stiles pulled his phone out of his pocket and moved over beside Derek, finding the perfect angle, then snapped a picture, and grinned. He was going to keep that forever... and never, ever mention it to anyone.

 

Checking the time he decided he'd shower and eat before he would wake Derek up and he set off. He took as much time as he could doing both, but he only burned up another hour.  _Maybe I could... no... But I don't really want to wake him up._

 

Stiles watched Derek from the doorway, playing with the hem of one of Derek's borrowed shirts and pouted.  _I never get to see him like this and... it's kinda nice, when he's not threatening to kill me or growling at me or anything._

 

With a breath, Stiles decided, and prayed to whoever would listen that he would not be mauled for doing this, and carefully crawled onto the bed beside Derek, not bothering with the sheets. He managed to wiggle the pillow out of Derek's arms and settle it under his own head, only for Derek to curl those arms around Stiles instead, murmuring as he settled in against him... Which apparently included pushing a leg between his and...  _fuck_ , not good not good  _notgood_ .

 

“Derek.” Stiles hissed, trying to shift away but only managing to push himself more into Derek and, and if this kept on this was going to be very, very awkward and  _bad_ and- “Derek!”

 

Derek jerked awake, blinking a few times as he looked at Stiles. His expression started at annoyed, then slid into realization and horror. “Oh.” Derek said, lamely, as he pulled away, standing up from the bed and moving wordlessly to the window. And... and no, Derek was not just going to leave after that. He was going to stay right here and talk about it because, dammit, Stiles wanted to know what the hell just happened.

 

“Derek, no, don't you dare jump out. You're going to stay right here and- _Derek_ !” Stiles sighed as he tried to reach for Derek, his fingers only brushing his shirt and he slumped against the sill as Derek just disappeared into the dark. “Fucking. Werewolves.”

 

Stiles grumbled and flopped back onto his bed, feeling awkward now, too big in his skin and like everything was just way too small and closing in on him. He turned onto his side and curled the wings around him and forced his eyes shut, trying to forget about everything that just happened.

  


But of course, of  _course_ , he couldn't. He could only lie awake replaying those last moments in his head, feeling like some freak, because of course Derek would just run away like that. He wouldn't be caught dead with someone like Stiles, and waking up like that? Stiles huffed. And here he was thinking Derek was starting to like him, to care about him...  _Silly me..._

_  
_


	5. I'm Feelin' Pretty Dirty, Baby (Forgive My Sins)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles frets over what happened with Derek; Stiles tells Scott.

 

After that, Derek didn't come back to his room. Stiles huffed as he had to do up his wraps by himself again for school – because while he could go around freely at home, he was definitely not going to risk it at school, ever, he wasn't an idiot like some people believed. He sent a text to Derek, saying ' _we need to talk_ ' before he was rushing down the stairs two at a time with his bag in over his shoulder and out the door with a pop tart in his mouth.

 

He paused in the car for a moment, rolling his phone in his hand. He'd thought about telling Scott, and maybe letting the pack know, now. He chewed for a moment before he tapped out a message to him, too, and then pulled out of the driveway and started toward the school.

 

When he got there, Scott practically jumped him. “Dude, what's up? What happened?”

 

Stiles waved him off. “I'll tell you after school.” He gave his friend a strained little smile. “It's not exactly something I can tell you without proof.”

 

Scott gave him his usual confused frown and nodded. “Okay, um, I'll tell Allison I'll be a little late then.”

 

Stiles nodded then let out a breath. Okay, good, he wouldn't be chickening out of this now, Scott would want to know what was wrong so he probably wouldn't let Stiles get out of it. He checked his phone for a text from Derek, and tried not to feel too disappointed when there was nothing.

 

He really shouldn't expect any different. It was Derek. Derek was probably going to try and ignore whatever had happened and avoid Stiles more than he did before he stumbled into the clearing and found him.

 

“Expecting a call or something?”

 

Stiles shook his head, tucking his phone back into his pocket, grimacing as he felt the wings tug at his uneven wraps. “Uh, no, it's nothing.” He shoved down the disappointment and flinched when the final bell before the tardy bell rang. “Craaap. Okay, I cannot be late again or my dad is gonna bury me, dude.”

 

The two ran down the hall, and with classes and the thought of what he was going to tell Scott after class was almost enough to get his mind off of Derek.

 

 

“Dude.” Scott stared at Stiles for a few moments as he looked up at him from where he was sitting on Stiles' bed. Stiles tried not to twitch too much and curled the wings around him. “So, like, what, are you...”

 

Stiles cut him off with a shake of his head. “I have no idea where they came from or anything. Just... happened a while ago.” He finished lamely, then twitched back when Scott reached out to touch one of them. No one else had ever touched them. Except for Derek... Stiles grimaced. _Great._ And he'd done so well just ignoring that problem. _Dammit._

 

Scott pouted at him for a moment, hand still stretched out, before he leaned back. “So does anyone else know about, um, them?”

 

Stiles flushed and nodded. “Y-yeah. My dad, and, I pretty much just told him last night, and, um...” He coughed and rubbed at the back of his neck. “...Derek.”

 

Scott's eyebrows shot up at that. “Derek? You told Derek before me?” Scott looked hurt. And, Stiles really didn't want the guilt trip, because really, if he ever got up the strength to tell anyone by himself then his dad and Scott would be the very first to know. It's not his fault Derek was... Derek and just stalked around in the forest and dropped in on him.

 

“Uh, no. It was more... Derek found out.” He hoped beyond hope that he could leave it at that. Scott just met him with a blank stare and eventually he nodded, prompting him. Stiles sighed. “Keeping them... wrapped up like that for very long gets... uncomfortable so I used to go into the woods where no one usually came and... let 'em out for a while. And I did that like, a month ago and Derek just... popped up.”  _There. That should do it._

 

“And?”

 

_Dammit, Scott._ Stiles glared at his friend as he sat at the edge of Stiles' bed, like a puppy waiting for his next treat. “And I freaked out and ran away and then he stalked me back to my jeep and everything was good. That's it. Nothing else happened!”

 

Scott sat back and nodded, then looked up, face scrunched up, like he smelled something weird. He hesitated before he asked. “So, are you going to tell the pack?”

 

Stiles shrugged and flopped down onto the bed beside Scott, tucking them close to him and just sighing as Scott reached out again and touched the wing closest to him. It was... different from when Derek touched them. With Derek it felt... it almost felt like the alpha was digging under his skin and touching his most intimate parts. And with Scott it was just like, warm. Safety and warm and summer days running around being idiot kids.

 

_Huh. That's... weird..._ He really didn't want to think about what that meant.

 

“Yeah, I guess. I'm not going to come out at school though. That's pretty much like asking to get lynched and burned at the stake.”

 

Scott stared for a moment. “Come out?” He tilted his head, looking parts confused and parts a little like he just pieced something together. “There something else you want to tell me, dude?”

 

Stiles stared up at him for a while, trying to figure out what he... _oh._ Oh _no._ “No! No, god, no, um, I'm not... _gay_ , dude.” Well... not for sure. But theoretically doesn't necessarily count, right? “I meant it like, come out with these not... out of my non-existent closet which does not exist.”

 

Scott nodded slowly. “Mmhmm.” He opened his mouth to say something else, and Stiles never wished more he could just disappear or be swallowed up by the floor or something, when his phone buzzed and he smiled. And Stiles would be forever thankful to Allison for getting him out of a possibly more awkward and embarrassing conversation than this one. Any more and he'd probably burst into flames from blushing.

 

“Sorry, dude, I...”

 

Stiles waved him off. “It's fine, go, man.”

 

Scott grinned at him, then pulled him up into an awkward bro-hug, and rushed out. Stiles sighed and flopped down onto the bed, reaching for his phone to check if Derek had answered at all. Still nothing.

 

Stiles pouted, as if pouting at his phone would magically make a text or a call appear. When that didn't work he just pulled himself up and busied himself around the house and in front of the tv for a few hours. He didn't have to worry about his dad being back until around midnight, so he had the house to himself. Even then, though, he was turning in early, tugging Derek's shirt back over his head and ignoring how the scent of woods and wolf and Derek made him feel calmer and more focused.

 

He was just about to crawl in under the blankets when he heard his window cracking open and he looked up to see Derek crawling through. _Finally..._ “Derek...”

 

Derek's head shot up and he stared over at Stiles, his eyes flickering red once before he dropped in, sliding the window shut. “You wanted to talk?”


	6. You're The One My Heart Calls Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Derek and Stiles finally have their talk (after a teeny tiny detour)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Meeeep little bit late. Sadly, updates may be like this for a while. Sorry, guys. :(

 

_“Derek...”_

_  
_

_“You wanted to talk?”_

 

 

Stiles more wanted to have Derek on the bed with him, curled around him like before, but he was not going to say that out loud. That was what got them in this mess in the first place. “Um, yeah, I...” He rubbed at the back of his neck and shrugged. “I wanted to, um, apologize for what happened the other night? I mean, I shouldn't have just slipped in like that. I'm always the one complaining about a personal bubble and all that and...” He trailed off when Derek made a low growling noise and swallowed. He was dead. So, _so_ dead. “Derek?” And... _oh god_ , he just _squeaked_. Great. _Perfect._ Way to make this situation better.

 

Derek stalked toward him, growling low in his throat as he reached toward Stiles and dragged him across the bed. And... really not the time to be getting horny. Really, really not the time.

 

Derek paused, face only about an inch from his, eyes red. He sniffed the air for a moment, and Stiles tried desperately to cover up the arousal that he knew Derek was probably smelling, and was probably going to gut him for, but it was too late.

 

Then, Derek grinned. An honest, genuine, really real _grin_ , and... and nuzzled at Stiles' throat. _What the fuck?_

 

Derek nipped at his Adam's apple, lapping over it and making Stiles shudder from head to toe and his wings were vibrating against the bed, now, before he pulled away and his grin was now a wolfish smirk. “I want you to...” He licked a hot line up the column of Stiles throat, Stiles gasping as he dug his fingers into the feathers of his own wings, trying desperately not to reach out toward Derek. “I need you close... All the time, Stiles. As close as I can get, I want to burrow deep inside you...”

 

Stiles hips rocked up without his permission and he let out a loud breath. “Okay, yeah, no, off.” Derek growled and dragged his mouth to Stiles' jaw and decided skimming the sensitive skin with his teeth was an amazing idea. “Oh- _ohmygod_ , okay. Derek, _off_.” The alpha leered at him, licking his lips, and Stiles frowned and pushed with his feet. “Off!”

 

Derek moved, pouting – actually, pouting... Stiles wished he could get away taking a picture without something vital being violently removed, most likely with teeth – as he plopped back on his ass on the bed. He looked like a puppy that'd just been reprimanded by it's owner.

 

Stiles sighed. “Dude, okay, first of all, what the hell? Why, why are you doing these things to me?” Derek tilted his head. “Why did you just lick me like my skin is made of wolf nip?”

 

Derek's eyes flickered and he licked his lips. Stiles did not need to think about that either, fuck. He growled lightly and leaned toward Stiles, and when he spoke, it was more than obvious that the wolf was in control. “You're mate.”

_  
_

_Oh. That... sort of explains things. But, wait..._ what?! “E-excuse me? Like... mate as in, you want to bone me and have werewolf children with me mate? As in, for life mate?”

 

Derek nodded. Stiles tried to swallow through his suddenly desert dry mouth. “I... I... when?” He cleared his throat. “You... you need to explain yourself, seriously. I... There's too many questions, crap, dude, why me? And when were you planning on- _ohhh_...” Stiles swallowed down a moan when Derek stalked toward him again. And... should Stiles be concerned that he's getting turned on by a wolfed-out Derek?

 

“D-Derek. Come on, we need to-mmm!” Stiles tensed when he felt Derek's mouth on his. But... it wasn't a kiss, really. It was more Derek latching onto his lower lip and lapping at it, biting down, easing the pain with little nips once he decided to let go.

 

“Later...”

 

Stiles shivered, licking his lips, shuddering again when he noticed how intently Derek was watching them. “N-no. Not later.” He swallowed and sat up, feeling the wings behind him uncurling. He pushed lightly at Derek's chest, not enough to push him back but more just... to touch him. Stiles never said he wasn't greedy. “We are going to talk, before anything else...” As much as 'anything else' sounded absolutely awesome.

 

Derek snarled, but he listened, sitting close to Stiles, keeping his hands on Stiles thighs as he stared. Stiles puffed out a shaky breath. “Alright, guess I'll start.”

 

Derek huffed, eyes narrowing as they bled red again. Alright, impatient werewolf, no good, okay. “U-um, so, right, uh...” Derek tapped a finger on Stiles leg and Stiles stiffened, feeling his feathers ruffle and stand on end as his wings shot up, and as he blurted. “So, yeah, I really, really need to know when you felt like this, about... um, me. And why. I mean, I know why I might be _considered_ attractive, you know, but...” He sighed. “I know I'm a little bit much at times and that kind of subtracts from that. Kind of like Jackson's douchery does from him.” And, great. Perfect time to mention that Stiles found Jackson attractive. _Awesome. Great job mouth. You're so fired. Well, would be. If... it was even possible to fire my mouth._

 

“Stiles.”

 

Oh, yeah. _Talking._ “Mmm?”

 

Derek was... _whoa_. Derek was actually _smiling_. Granted, it was a small, teeny- _tiny_ smile but, yeah. And... and Stiles felt like he'd been punched in the gut without the pain, because it was suddenly so hard to breathe with Derek smiling, at him, sanely. Derek shook his head and squeezed Stiles thighs, then dropped his eyes to his hands. “For a while. I've... known you're my mate for a while.” He paused a moment then lifted a hand up to Stiles' wing, smoothing feathers down and making shivers crash down his spine and his toes curl. “Since I saw you in the woods, I knew exactly. I... I'd felt it before that, but I... never knew what it was.” He smirked and rubbed a thumb over one of the feathers. “And really? Just a _little bit_ much?”

 

“Oh, har har.” Stiles slapped Derek's hand away, and then regretted it – it more made his hand sting than phase Derek at all and the wing rubbing felt _really_ good. He sat up a bit straighter then bit into his lip and stared at the werewolf across from him. “If you knew for that long then why did you always act like you couldn't stand me?”

 

The hand that was still on Stiles thigh tightened for a moment before Derek ripped his hand away and he looked away. Derek frowned when Stiles made a soft sound in the back of his throat, almost wounded, something he didn't even think he was capable of making but, there you go. “I...” Derek huffed. “I didn't want you to get stuck with me. You don't... you don't deserve that, Stiles.”

_  
_

_What? But..._ What _?!_ “Hold up, I... Let me get this straight. You acted like you hated me so you could put some distance between us... because you didn't want me to get stuck with you?”

 

A few moments passed, then Derek nodded, and Stiles frowned – even if it did feel more like a pout; he was never that much of a frowny person – before he moved a little closer to Derek, grabbed his hands and purposely ignoring the sharp points of his nails. “Okay, so... that whole... pushing me away thing to protect me?” Stiles scoffed, and Derek flinched. _Good._ “That's not your decision. If I wanted protecting, you should've let me decide. If I didn't want to get close to you, you let _me_ figure that out, okay?”

 

Derek's frown deepened and he glared down at the floor for a few seconds, before he pulled his – now more human – hands away and stuffed them into his pockets. “I'm not good for you, Stiles. I'm...”

 

“ _Derek_.” Stiles hardened his voice, and he almost cracked a smile when he saw Derek's head whip up, those green-hazel eyes staring at him, wide. “You've saved my life, so many more times than anyone else, you risk yourself, to save me. You protect me, even when I don't need it.” He gave Derek a very pointed glare at that and, again, had to bite back a smile when Derek shrunk back a little at it. “Sure, you have baggage, but, I mean, yeah, I'm new to this but... I think everyone's going to have some issues and, well...” He let out a breath. “How about we just... figure something out with this whole... mate... thing, yeah?” And, no, Stiles didn't not almost break out into a gigantic smile at the word _mate_. Really, could you blame him for being a little happy realizing that there was someone who showed some interest in him? To know that at least he'd been meant for someone? Even if that someone was sometimes-creepy, most-times-grumpy Derek Hale. He'd make it his mission to make Derek happier, then.

 

Derek just sat there, quiet, for way too long. Stiles had to physically stop himself from twitching, squeezing his hands onto his legs, digging his fingers in and tucking his arms into his sides, and he had to bite into his tongue to stop from talking, filling the growing silence. Then, Derek looked up at him, looking sad and lost and so much younger than Stiles had ever seen him. “Only... only if you're sure. Are you sure you want to... to try anything with me?”

 

Stiles had the feeling that included any contact with Derek. And... and yeah, Stiles had to say that, yes, while a life without Derek would probably be a lot safer, he would kind of sorta hate it. He'd found himself a use since Derek wiggled his way into Stiles' life, a purpose for something other than being the comic relief to Scott's dopey-eyed hero. He didn't have to go out and actively seek out adventures to make himself feel like he was important for something other than making his friend laugh and reminding his dad of his mom and making everything harder. He just had to go find Derek, and most of the time, whatever adventure he'd find with the now-Alpha, it was hazardous, danger around every corner, and the both of them constantly risking their lives to save people, to help, to be important. Others, it was just... nice, warm, like the old days of summer when he and Scott would always wander around and laugh and play, familiar like it, unfamiliar in the something else that was always an undercurrent that he could never really pick up until he thought about it later, and even then, he could really never understand it. _Huh. So, maybe... that was it..._

 

Stiles glanced up to Derek, then he just couldn't help himself, he'd always been a hugger, that was how he'd always tried to fix things when someone he cared about was upset. He had magical hugs.

 

Derek stiffened up for a moment when Stiles' arms wrapped around broad shoulders, then when Stiles' wings followed, enveloping the werewolf better than anything else, he relaxed, falling into Stiles with a small breath.

 

“Yeah...” Stiles said, because while he was a hugger, he was also a talker. And, while Derek maybe, already knew his answer, what with all of his werewolf powers and all that, he wanted to make absolutely sure this got through. “Yeah, I'm sure.”

 

Derek's arms came around him, then, curling tight, and he buried his face into the mess of feathers on his shoulder. Derek growled softly, contentedly, and opened his half-green, half-red eyes to Stiles, still looking so unsure and lost. Stiles felt like his emotions were reflected there, because... he was sure, he was positive he at least wanted to try. But he was lost, no idea what to do or where to start, how to do this right or be good at it or anything. He didn't want to mess up and end up hurting Derek more than Derek was already hurt, so much. He didn't want to _add_ to Derek's problems.

 

Instead of conveying any of that, though, Stiles just sucked in a breath, tasting only Derek, and werewolf and something else that he couldn't quite name, but rolled over his tongue amazingly, and squeezed him, burying his face into Derek's hot neck and closing his eyes, just breathing Derek in, as Derek sunk into his body and breathed him in. A silence took up the room, and for the first time in a really, really long time, the silence wasn't tinged with memories of a silent house that drove him insane with sadness. It was peaceful, _good_. It was _home_.

 


	7. I Feel A Lil' Withdrawl, Baby (Come Pick Me Up)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kind of... mostly filler. And fluff. And silliness. Oh, and Papa Stilinski. Derek's POV. Warning for ooc-ness.

 

When Derek woke up next, he was curled around a warm, slightly-smaller body. His face was tucked into soft down, warm and earthy-spicy smelling.

 

He pulled back a little, seeing Stiles' face, mouth parted and looking so peaceful. Derek smiled softly, then slowly uncurled himself from around Stiles. The younger boy stirred a little bit, wings twitching and curling around himself to make up for Derek's warm disappearing. Derek felt his chest fill up with warmth and he reluctantly crawled out of the bed.

 

Derek... didn't really know what was going to happen next. Stiles said he was sure and Derek... Derek didn't even really understand everything that he was asking of Stiles, what he was asking Stiles to be sure of. Yes, he was asking Stiles to be his mate but...

 

“Thass really creepy...” Stiles muttered, and Derek jumped a little bit and looked back down to his mate. The dark feathers parted around him, bleary brown eyes staring up at him. “D'you hav'ta watch m'sleep?”

 

Derek didn't say anything, just watched Stiles stretch out, wings vibrating with it. Then Stiles slumped back onto the mattress and sighed. “Yeah, 'course y'do, creeper.” But he was smiling as he said it, teasing. Stiles sat up slowly, yawning and stretching out, his toes curling and uncurling, then tilted his head at Derek. “So...” Stiles scooted forward until he could stretch out and touch Derek, easily. “Now what, sourwolf?”

 

Derek didn't know. He couldn't answer Stiles even if he wanted to. Derek huffed and settled down beside Stiles, barely holding back a shudder when Stiles curled a wing around his back. Derek looked down at the younger boy, into those wide brown eyes, and just... let his instincts take him.

 

Stiles' mouth was warm and wet against his, his lips chapped from the boy constantly licking over them. He stiffened under Derek for a moment, lips frozen for a beat, then two, and finally Derek felt a shaking hand around the back of his neck and Stiles pressed into him. It was good, great, maybe not perfect but... the imperfection _made_ it perfect. Kate... Kate had always made every kiss she stole from him perfect, no passion but all technique. Stiles was the opposite. Their lips pressed together in bruising force, teeth clacking together, noses bumping together, but Stiles was nearly whimpering with it, clinging to Derek like if they separated he'd die.

 

Derek pulled back, one hand pressed firm against the younger boy's jaw, the other dug deep into dark feathers. Stiles eyes were half-lidded, mouth hanging open and puffy, red from kissing. Derek's wolf whined, wanting to wreck him even more, to claim him, mark Stiles where everyone could see. He wanted to mark every inch of Stiles pale skin, with his teeth, his nails, his tongue. He wanted to dig his fingers in deep into the feathers of Stiles' wings until it was clear he was there, maybe even leave marks from his teeth under the feathers, deep down to where only Stiles and Derek would know where the mark was, and Stiles could never erase Derek from him.

 

“Fuck.” Derek pulled away from Stiles, taking several steps away. Stiles blinked up at him lazily, looking hurt and... “No, Stiles, it's not... It's, it's me, I...” Derek should maybe be a little concerned that he'd started to pick up Stiles' babbling. And whiplash-inducing tracks of thought, too, apparently. _Fuck, focus._ “I... I want to...” He swallowed, watching Stiles' adam's apple bob at the same time, and shuddered. He wanted to bite right there, mark him _dirty_ and _dark_.

 

Stiles just stared at him for a while, then moved to the edge of the bed closest to Derek, stretching out his wings and wrapping them around the werewolf's back, pulling him forward. Derek almost fell forward onto Stiles, just barely stopping himself with his hands around Stiles' body on the bed. “Stiles, what are you...”

 

Derek trailed off when Stiles tilted his head back, pulling at his shirt to show his collarbone, brown eyes staring up at him. Derek shuddered, then pushed Stiles back enough so he could settle over Stiles' lap, then scraped his teeth over Stiles' pulse, feeling it pick up under his tongue when he laved over it. Stiles gasped and shivered under him, curling dark feathers around him, a soft blanket of warm.

 

Then Derek heard the door down the hall open and close, and the Sheriff was moving toward Stiles' room. He didn't even know the Sheriff was _here_ , he couldn't smell him or hear him or anything and...

 

Derek scrambled back and fell under the bed just as the door to the bedroom opened and Sheriff Stilinski stepped in. “Oh, you're awake already, huh? You okay, son?”

 

Stiles stuttered a few times before he laughed and Derek heard him shift around. “Oh yeah, totally. I'm awesome. _Super_ awesome.”

 

Derek dropped his head to the floor and tried not to groan. The older Stilinski was quiet for a while before he cleared his throat. “Uh _huh_ , well...” He paused again, and could almost hear the smile on the older man's face, his heart beat steady as he said. “I'm going to go and get started with breakfast before I have to go back in. You should, invite your boyfriend to join us.” Stiles choked and sputtered, and Derek felt his eyes widen as he stared at the Sheriff's legs in the doorway from under the bed. “I'd like to talk to him about a few things.”

 

With that, the door closed after the Sheriff, and Derek popped his head out from under the bed, sharing a distressed look with Stiles – though, Stiles' face was more unbelievable mortification and _'oh-god-killmenow'_. Derek cleared his throat as he stood up and brushed the dust off of himself – normally, he couldn't give a shit about wearing a little dust, but... he was about to meet his mate's father, officially and... Derek was not too proud to admit he was more than a little bit scared.

 

“So...”

 

“Oh god, _no_. No, my dad knows about _this_. What the hell?! Like, really, _I_ barely know about this and he just walks in like ' _oh Stiles, bring your boyfriend_ ' which, I'm not even sure what this _is_ , like, yeah, I'm your mate but does that make us _boyfriends_ or- _mphh_.”

 

Derek pulled back, their lips making a smacking sound as they separated, and grinned. How bad was it that Stiles' babble calmed him? And, and it seriously sounded like Stiles was all on-board for being his mate, being with _Derek_ , of all people. “Would you rather just go down there and get this over with? Or stay here and freak out while he probably thinks were having sex?”

 

“ _Ohmygod_ , okay, okay, point, you have a very, _very_ , disturbing point. Let's go, _god_.”

 

Derek watched Stiles' wings twitch and he smiled, brushing his hands through the feathers for a few moments as he pressed his lips to Stiles' forehead, hoping to calm the younger boy down a little – which, given how Stiles sunk down a little, worked pretty well – before pulling him up and moving down the stairs to meet his mate's father for breakfast.

 

 

“So...” The sheriff set down the newspaper in his hands when they both walked into to the room. He looked over Derek, then frowned. “Aren't you that Hale kid that Stiles said was a murderer before?”

 

“Oh... um, about that...”

 

Derek cut in before Stiles could try to babble his way out. “Yes, sir.” He held out a hand. “It was all a misunderstanding, really.” A horrible misunderstanding, but... he knew Stiles didn't mean him any harm. And he'd already apologized so many times that Derek never wanted to hear Stiles say 'sorry' again.

 

Stiles was staring. And he was shocked. Derek felt himself fluff up, feeling more like a peacock than a wolf as the Sheriff took his hand without hesitation. “So...” The sheriff drew out as he settled back in his seat, Derek and Stiles still standing across from him, then he grinned. “I'm sure I don't have to tell you that if you hurt my boy I'm going to hunt you down and bury you, right?”

 

“ _DAD_!”

 

“Yes, sir.”

 

Sheriff Stilinski grimaced, nose wrinkling and, huh... so that's where Stiles got some of his outrageous expressions from. “Stop it with the 'sir's. Just call me John, son. Now, the both of you sit down and eat before the tension in the room gets thick enough to cut with a knife.”

 

Derek bit down a smile and sat, having to pull Stiles down to join him. Stiles fell into the seat with a choked back yelp that Derek could hear perfectly – and almost had him grinning again – and started loading up his mates plate with a little of everything.

 

Stiles seemed a little more pacified when he had a small mountain of pancakes, bacon and eggs in front of him. John didn't say anything about it, but he did give Derek a little eyebrow quirk before he spoke up again.

 

“So, obviously Stiles told you about his...” John hesitated a little bit, waving his hand in the air for a few moments before he shrugged. “I'm still not used to it.” He looked pointedly at his son. “I still don't quite understand it and I probably won't for a while... Sorry.”

 

Stiles' heartbeat tripped a little bit, but he nodded and gave his dad a fairly convincing smile. “I know, Dad. It's, uh, it's fine.” He fidgeted a little bit and glanced between Derek and his father before settling on the Sheriff. “So, um, what did you want to talk about dad? With, um, with Derek?”

 

John leveled a blank stare at his son, his lips twitching as Stiles pouted and went back to his food. The father let out a sigh before turning to look back at Derek. “I wanted to ask you a few questions and set some ground rules first.” The Sheriff smirked. “I'll let you decide which we'll tackle first.”

 

Stiles' fork tapped hard against his plate and he spoke, soft and quiet. “Do I have a vote in this?”

 

“No.”

 

“...Damn.”

 

Derek bit into the inside of his cheek – something he noticed he'd had to do a lot of since Stiles came around – and nodded. “Questions.” Couldn't be as bad as Stiles' usually are.

 

“Alrighty. What's going on with you and my son and several high school students?”

 

...Fuck.

 

Stiles' suddenly pounding heartbeat seemed to agree with that sentiment.

 

Derek wasn't sure if it was time to break that to the man yet, considering he'd only found out his son was something supernatural the other day, not even a full week. Discovering that the town you're sworn to protect is crawling with werewolves and hunters? Probably not the best news. Then again, discovering that your son was dating a werewolf was probably a lot worse.

 

“Uh, well, you see, dad...”

 

John sighed. “Stiles, I'm sure the man can answer for himself.”

 

“But-”

 

Stiles trailed off at the stern look his father gave him and went back to picking at the remains of pancake he had left.

 

Derek looked over the Sheriff. All things considered, he'd taken what he'd discovered so far pretty well. And if Stiles got his suspension-of-disbelief attitude and protective tendencies from anywhere he'd have to guess he got a good part of them from his father. He hoped, anyway.

 

“We're... a lot like Stiles. Not with the, wings but... We're different.” He paused a moment, taking in the Sheriff's blank expression and Stiles' panicked one. “Those high school students that follow me around, they're my pack. _We're_ a pack.” He reached under the table to squeeze Stiles' leg and drew in a small breath, imperceptible to the two humans – well, one human and one _mostly_ human – in the room. “We're werewolves.”

 

Sheriff John Stilinski stared at him for a few moments, then looked back to his son. Stiles shrugged, then nodded, giving his dad a little smile. “O...kay.” He glanced back at Derek, frowning. Derek sighed, then let the alpha red start to bleed into his eyes, his canines growing just long enough to show.

 

John's eyebrows rose up a little, then he sat back in his chair, huffing out a disbelieving laugh. “Well... Guess... That explains some of the things that've been happening lately.”

 

Stiles stared at his dad for a little while as Derek let his features shift back into human, and eventually his face broke into a wide, sort of proud smile. He felt Stiles relax back and reach under to squeeze the hand still resting on his leg.

 

Then the older man glanced between the two of them, settling on Derek again. “Then I'll have to say that if you do anything to hurt my son, that I'll have to see if Chris has any silver bullets I could use to hunt you down.”

 

Stiles happy smile dissolved into nervous laughter and Derek gave him a small nod. He was absolutely not going to mention silver didn't do anything to him, not that he was planning on hurting Stiles anyway.

 

“Good.” John smiled, then stood up after a glance at his watch, pulling on his jacket that was hanging on the back of his chair as he did. “Glad that we understand each other.” He looked over to Stiles. “I'll be back late, I don't want any trouble. At all.” He said the last part with a pointed glanced in Derek's direction, and Derek had a pretty good guess as to why, if the jump in Stiles' pulse and his suddenly red face had anything to do with it. “We'll talk later, Derek.

 

The Sheriff leaned down, giving his son a quick hug, and Derek a small nod before he was out the door, leaving the two alone in the room. Stiles let out a breath and brushed a hand over his hair, dark feathers twitching before curling around behind his back as he stood up. “Dude, that was the single most embarrassing moment of my life. I can't believe he threatened you.” He groaned. “Just my luck that I'm not even with someone for ten hours before my dad finds out.”

 

Derek felt his lips twitch and he gathered up all the dishes from the table before moving to the sink, feeling Stiles follow after him. “I thought he took it well.”

 

Stiles paused a moment, then pushed Derek over with his hip and turned on the water. “The werewolf part, yeah. I half expected him to pull his gun out when you started getting all toothy on us, but the dating thing.” He flushed a bright, delicious red again, licking his lips and staring resolutely into the sink as it filled with water. “I suppose I should be glad he didn't say anything about my innocence or purity or something. I think I would've died right there if he did.”

 

Derek bit into the side of his cheek and he... really didn't need to think about Stiles purity. Or how badly he wanted to dirty him up and mark him up earlier. Derek let out a breath and curled around behind Stiles as he started washing, pausing for a moment, his pulse skipping. He smiled slightly, tucking his face into his mate's wings and breathing in deep, enjoying the scent of arousal, joy and leftover embarrassment from him.

 

“S-so.” Stiles stuttered, swallowed, then started again, his voice a little more steady. “Any plans for today? To celebrate our matedom?”

 

Derek rolled his eyes, but untangled himself from Stiles, nipping at the boy's neck gently before stepping back a few feet. “I could think of a few ways.” He smirked when a plate slipped out of Stiles' hands to crash into the water, sending it all over Stiles as he turned to stare at Derek with a half-aroused, half-shocked expression. “But maybe should wait until you're eighteen for that.”

 

Stiles' mouth dropped open a little more then he turned back around, grumbling and rubbing at the water splotches on his shirt and pants. Derek grinned, then moved right up behind Stiles again, spinning him around and pressing him up against the counter, ripping the towel out of his grip and staring down into wide, surprised brown eyes. “But, we can still do this.” Then Derek leaned down, pressing their mouths together again, feeling Stiles shudder under him and hearing the wings vibrate against the back wall.

 

Stiles' arms curled around his neck, wet and slippery with soap, and he pressed up before soft, warm feathers gathered around him, pulling him further into Stiles' body. Stiles groaned into the kiss, opening his mouth without any hesitation when Derek pressed his tongue to the seam of his lips. Stiles moved more naturally this time, less with a feeling that he had no idea what he was doing, and more just chasing after his own pleasure. Derek threaded his fingers through the feathers, feeling Stiles shudder just before their mouths parted with a soft click.

 

“I think I can get into this.” Stiles teased, leaning up for several more quick kisses before he muttered, “Definitely, I can definitely get into this.” and pressed up again.


	8. And I Know I'll Be Okay (Though My Skies Are Turning Gray)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles and Derek team up to figure out what Stiles is; Derek's in trouble (again) and Stiles comes in to save him (again).

 

Stiles sat at his computer, biting into his lip for a moment, wondering if... if he should really try searching this because it was ridiculous – he'd looked up so many other ridiculous things as soon as he realized werewolves existed, but this, this was just silly, because no. With a sigh, Stiles resigned himself to his own curiosity, and typed in 'angels' into google. Of course, lots of religious stuff that didn't really help his research. He tacked on 'supernatural', and, yeah, still nothing.

 

Feeling more than a little stupid, Stiles closed the window and slumped back, wings twitching agitatedly around him. Yeah, he'd tried before to see if he could figure out why he was the way he was, but just like now, it'd turned up nothing. His problem was not really knowing where to start. He couldn't just up and search 'I got all feathery overnight and I'm wondering what the hell I am, and if I can fly'. That, he'd always wondered but he was way too scared to try just leaping out of his window to test it out. And it's not like I could just go swooping around town, people would notice a kid, with wings, flying around and such.

 

Stiles sighed, pouting as he picked at his jeans, swaying back and forth in the seat. Maybe... They had something to do with his mom... They did come out around when she... when she was gone. Stiles flinched. He felt like he'd just had a thousand-ton weight dropped on his shoulders, and he curled his arms around the back of the chair pressing against his chest and hugging his wings around his body.

 

“Stiles?”

 

Stiles looked up, seeing Derek crawling through the window, brow furrowed in worry. “What's wrong?”

 

Stiles huffed, then realized his cheeks were wet and rubbed at them. “I'm fine.” He didn't have to be a werewolf to hear his own heart beat harder at the lie. He smiled tightly. “Just... trying to research _this_.” His wings twitched out. “Figure out... what I am.”

 

Derek was quiet, as usual, but then he was crowding up behind Stiles, face rubbing against the feathers curling around Stiles' arms, just barely perched on the edge of the chair. Stiles chuckled. “This thing isn't made for two people, Derek.”

 

Derek growled softly, then pressed in closer, and nipped at the curve of his wing, making Stiles shudder. “Don't care.” He squeezed his strong arms around him. “You're hurting...” He shifted around, whining softly, until his lips where pressing softly against Stiles' pulse, thumbs brushing over and over again over the soft tufts of feathers settled over his thighs. “I need to comfort my mate.”

 

 _Oh. Wolf thing._ Stiles leaned back into Derek and sighed, closing his eyes and just trying to enjoy the warmth of his boyfriend. Derek growled approvingly, lapping over his thumping pulse before he moved his hands up, stroking over the wings softly, scratching through a little, petting him. Stiles choked back a chuckle and hummed, tilting his head back to look into Derek's eyes, that were somewhere between that fierce alpha red and the gorgeous blue-gray hazel Derek normally had.

 

“I was thinking about my mom.” Stiles blurted, feeling that saddening weight hit his shoulders again. Derek made a soft sound in the back of his throat before he nuzzled against Stiles neck again. He was probably a little overwhelmed by the emotions Stiles was no doubt shedding off in waves. Stiles took a breath and continued. “I think maybe her... she had something to do with, you know.”

 

Derek nodded jerkily, breath puffing against Stiles' shoulder blade, shifting the small pieces of fluff where the wing met his back with it. Stiles concentrated on the gentle brush of Derek's fingers, counting each twitch of his fingers, every time he reached the end and hand to lift his hand up for a few seconds to start all over again at the top. Eventually, that sad feeling went away, and he felt more contented than anything. Derek didn't stop petting his wings, though, and Stiles let him, letting his socked toes curl into the carpet from the feeling, too.

 

“What do you know? I mean...” Stiles stutters around, trying to find the right words. “Did you find anything in any of those books you told me about?”

 

Derek's hands paused, then he hummed. “Maybe.”

 

Stiles waited for a few moments, then raised his eyebrows. “Well?”

 

Derek pulled back a bit, opening his mouth to speak before he started slipping off the edge of the seat. His eyes went hilariously wide for a moment before he recovered, using a hand to spring up onto his feet. Stiles swayed a little, but managed to stay on the seat. At least, until Derek hauled him up, and pulled him to the bed.

 

“I didn't find much.” Derek muttered finally, curling his arms around Stiles and tucking his face into the wings. “I was just reading through a few old family books and...” He licked his lips, then looked over Stiles. “I came across some journals from one of my aunts, who mentioned something about a guardian angel.” When Stiles gave him a curious look, Derek just gave a small, little smile. “I always thought she was a little, um, odd, but I remember someone constantly around her, even on the full moon when other humans in our pack were gone, that woman was always around. She wasn't a werewolf, and I remember she was always so caring and protective, of everyone in the pack but especially of my aunt.”

 

Stiles stared for a moment then he tilted his head. “So, you think that's... you think I'm a guardian angel?” Stiles shook his head. “But... why would it come out all the sudden like that?”

 

Derek clucked his tongue – and... Stiles was only just a teeny bit distracted by how Derek's tongue moved around his teeth with it – and frowned. “That's the part that I don't understand. Because, you were human before, at least, you seemed to be.” Derek tilted his head then. “Right?”

 

Stiles nodded. “Before I was six I was the most normal kid on the block. Maybe a bit less clumsy than I am now but, you know, that's mostly because I don't have these out most of the time.” Stiles shrugged his shoulders, wings moving with him. “They help me keep balance.”

 

Derek hummed, brushing a finger down one of the feather's spines. Then he sighed. “From what I read, most of them just seem to... appear. Like they've descended down to their charge. Not that many are human boys and then just grow wings.” Derek made a frownier-than-usual expression. “And then I'm just... confused why you'd be here, without a charge. From what I could tell, without anyone to look after they have no purpose. And yet you're here, and you don't exactly seem to be stuck to keeping just one person safe.” Derek's lips twitched in that way that now told Stiles he was smiling on the inside, but he still had to keep up appearances on the outside. “Unless you're protecting the entire populace of Beacon Hills.”

 

Stiles rolled his eyes, then sighed. “It's the best we have to go on now, I guess. We need to see if we can find anything else that can help us a little more.”

 

Derek nodded, but didn't let Stiles move. Stiles blinked up at him, then grinned when he saw the way Derek was staring at his mouth. “C'mere, sourwolf.”

 

Derek grimaced at the nickname, but leaned down, just licking into Stiles' mouth and nipping at his lips. _Marking them._ Stiles shivered a little, then curled his wings around Derek. Derek made a soft, whimpering noise, tucking as close as he could to Stiles. Stiles smiled, tilting his head back when Derek nuzzled in, and had to bite his lip to stop from saying anything about how Derek was turning into more of a cuddle monster than a werewolf.

 

He could figure it out later. At least they – maybe – made some headway into it. Tomorrow he could research everything he could about guardian angels and hope for something to useful to come up. Right now? Right now he just wanted to stay wrapped up and warm with Derek, hope that it would help with the lingering sadness he felt.

 

Derek made a soft shushing noise, stroking a hand down his side, and Stiles grinned, before he closed his eyes and dozed off.

 

 

Stiles woke up with a start in the middle of the night, a tight feeling in his stomach and Derek gone. There was note left on his desk, and Stiles jumped up, wincing at the sudden pain he felt, and snatched up the paper.

 

_Isaac called, something happened. Will be back soon._

 

Stiles frowned down at Derek's messy writing, then grimaced at the knot in his gut tightened painfully. He had a horrible feeling, and he had a feeling that he needed to find Derek. _Now._

 

Stiles didn't bother wrapping up his wings, just pulled on one of Derek's ripped shirts, and tucked them close around him as he raced down the stairs as quietly as he could, just in case his dad was home. He grabbed his keys and was out the door and into his jeep in what seemed like nothing. Stiles blinked, then shook his head and turned the key in the ignition; he didn't have time to worry about his sudden loss of time.

 

He... didn't really know how he knew exactly where to go but... he did. _Maybe it's a mate thing..._

 

When he pulled over to the side of the road, near a thick grouping of trees, the pain was radiating worse. And he was just crawling out of his jeep when he heard gunshots, and pained howls ripping through the air.

 

“Derek...” Stiles gasped, before he was rocketing through the forest, feeling like his feet weren't even touching the ground, and his wings spread out behind him with his anxiety. He heard his name before anything else happened, and then he realized he was curled around Derek, hands pressing against the blood spilling from a wound on the werewolf's leg.

 

“Stiles, what the hell are you doing here?” Derek grunted, eyes going wide when twigs and leaves rustled around them with footsteps. “Stiles, _leave. Now_.” The alpha ordered.

 

Stiles shook his head, curling as completely around Derek as he possibly could, his body thrumming. He had to get them out of there. With a deep breath, Stiles pulled his hands away from the wound to curl around Derek, pulling him up, and then they were off through the woods again, feet not meeting the earth, and Derek yelping very un-alpha-like before they met the ground again suddenly, hitting hard and rolling until they came to a stop just before Stiles' jeep.

 

Derek untangled himself from Stiles, eyes bleeding red and wide. “What the fuck was that, Stiles?!” He panted, brushing a hand through his hair as Stiles sat up with a wince – his left wing and arm hurt like a bitch. “Were we flying just now? And, and how the hell did you find me? Why the hell did you just fling yourself in front of hunters like that?!”

 

Stiles stared up at Derek, rolling his eyes at the growling. He slowly stood up, brushing off, then grimacing again at the twinge from his left side. “I don't know. I... I felt like I had to get to you, that you were in trouble and...” Stiles paused when Derek swayed, eyes flashing red before he stumbled into the jeep and whined. “Derek... come on, get inside.” He helped Derek up into the passenger's side of the jeep and felt another twinge in his gut along with his left upper parts. “We'll get you some help.” Stiles swallowed. “You'll be back to your old grumpy self in no time, sourwolf.”

 

Derek huffed at the familiar name, then frowned down at his leg, where he was still bleeding. “You're going to answer my questions, Stiles.” Stiles swallowed, pulled himself up into the drivers seat and it was only a matter of seconds before they were rocketing down the street, driving rules be damned. If I knew the answers, then yeah. Stiles huffed to himself, tucking his injured arm around his stomach. That guardian angel theory isn't looking so ridiculous now.

 


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles and Derek discuss how finally knowing what exactly Stiles is changes things.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh gosh this was so late. I have no real excuse for it being this late. Sorry. :(

 

In the back room of the vet's office, Derek was laying out on a steel table, letting his leg heal after Dr. Deaton had treated the wolfsbane in it. To his credit, the man had only just barely reacted when Stiles tumbled in with Derek, keeping his wings tucked as close around himself as possible. He just clucked his tongue and helped them into the back.

 

Derek, though, was growling all over the place. And when the vet left them alone - after checking over Stiles aching arm - and... whoa, there was a lot of blood he was not noticing before... - and he decidedly ignored the tugging sensation followed by a sticky feeling of the blood all over his arm being cleans and just concentrated on getting Derek to stop growling - Derek turned to Stiles, frowning. “What happened, Stiles?”

 

Stiles crossed his arms. “I think I deserve a little bit of an explanation from your side, too, wolf-man.”

 

Derek looked unimpressed. Stiles shrunk back only just a little before he sighed and scooted closer, leaning toward his mate before he spoke. “I don't know... I was still asleep and then I just... woke up and I had this horrible feeling in my gut, like if I didn't get to you that something bad was going to happen. And then I was just... gone, moving without even thinking of it. And I knew exactly where you were, somehow, I knew all the right ways to turn and...” Stiles trailed off, nose wrinkling. “That... isn't something that happens with mates, is it?”

 

Derek was quiet for a long time, and then he sighed and sat up, covering his wince up to just a twitchy cheek. “No, not...” Derek let out a breath. “Not until we've been bonded.” His frown deepened as he stared down at his slowly healing wound. “There were hunters there... the Argents... And they saw you.” Fear washed across his features as he swallowed and Stiles reached out, grabbing one of Derek's hands and squeezing, without even thinking about it. “I... I don't know if they know it was you but... I wouldn't doubt that they have some idea of what you are, and that you're protecting me. They're going to start coming after you, too.”

 

Stiles gulped down the scared noise that wanted to come out. That was... less than ideal. It didn't help that they had no idea about what Stiles could or couldn't do or what could hurt him, while the hunters probably carried around personal handbooks for his and Derek's kind. It was even worse that most of the Argent family scared the crap out of him.

 

“Okay...” Stiles took a deep, shaking breath and nodded. “Okay, yeah, I can... we can handle that. They'll be busy trying to get all of us so... they won't... ugh.” Stiles grimaced. That was stupid. “Okay, yeah, no. Too optimistic. And naive. I'm not Scott, I can't pull off the stupidly optimistic shtick.”

 

Derek's lips twitched, and he huffed, running a hand through his hair. “We can make it so, if I can't be around you, then someone else will follow you to keep you safe.”

 

Stiles let out a breath, feeling his wings vibrating behind him. He nodded slowly, shifting so he was practically clinging to Derek. “Okay. Okay, that...” He flinched. “...makes me feel a little better.”

 

Derek looked over Stiles, clucking his tongue and curling his arms around Stiles' waist, pulling him close. “We'll protect you, Stiles.” Derek growled. “You're mine. No one is going to hurt you.” He pulled back, his eyes bleeding red and face twisted into a snarl, and Stiles felt that fear ebb away even more because, yeah, Derek was terrifying when he was seriously pissed. “Anyone so much as looks at you wrong I'm going to tear their throat out as slowly and painfully as possible.”

 

Stiles' wings twitched and he nodded. “Okay.” He sighed and leaned into Derek, closing his eyes. “Thank you.”

 

Derek hummed, growl vibrating through it halfway, and nuzzled into his wings, nipping at a few feathers. “You're mine. Anyone who tries to hurt you is dead.”

 

 _I'll... take that as a violent, but well-meaning werewolf compliment._ Stiles curled around Derek, part hoping to calm him down and part wordlessly apologizing for being reckless again. He really didn't mean to add to the crap they were dealing with but, honestly, Stiles would rather be hunted down by the terrifying Argent family – sans Allison, who so far only seemed to have inherited bits and pieces of the creepy killer Argent genes – than find Derek dead and know he could've saved him.

 

He paused, and wondered if... his protective instincts over Derek were part to what he was starting to really believe he was now. Maybe he was Derek's guardian angel. Maybe he did have someone to watch over and protect, like Derek said. _Huh_. Stiles looked over Derek, watching the werewolf slowly relax as plush wings curled soft around his body. _Then risking my neck so many times for him makes sense now... Especially..._

 

Stiles grinned, remembering that first time that he'd actively helped Derek; carting the dying werewolf around town in his jeep that had never smelled like life and healthiness again since, and the painful, rock-in-his-gut feeling when he heard Derek admit he was dying. Yeah, he was threatened, that... certainly helped motivate him into action, especially when you considered that was the time where Stiles was actually scared of Derek, but he just... he _had_ to keep Derek alive, just as he had to keep his Dad alive no matter how reluctant he was to listen to Stiles.

 

“What're you thinking about?”

 

Stiles startled and pulled back a little, catching Derek's slight frown before he tugged Stiles back against him. Stiles blushed and nuzzled against Derek's hair, smelling the bland scent of his own shampoo – and what a revelation _that_ was – and the woodsy smell he'd always associated with the werewolf. Stiles shrugged. “Just... nothing, really.” Okay, yes, that was a lie. Even if Derek couldn't smell it or hear or however the hell he could tell how people were lying so easily, he'd just know because, honestly. This was Stiles. He was always thinking something, and he knew because Stiles broken brain-to-mouth filter was always blurting those somethings.

 

Derek stared at him for a long, long time, not speaking or moving. Finally, he frowned – more than he already was... anyway – and stretched his fingers up to touch one of Stiles' wings. He flinched; the touch burned for a second, feeling like a hole being ripped through him with a red-hot spear, and then the pain was just leeching away. It was slow, but it was gradually feeling better, like poison being sucked out of him.

 

Derek's expression cleared, going wide and shocked, and then he dropped his fingers away and made a soft humming sound. “What?” Stiles nudged him, trying to turn and look at the wing but whatever wound was there was too close to his back to see. He could see the insane amount of blood though which... when did his wing get hurt? Stiles definitely needed to reevalute his self-awareness because there was way too many injuries going unnoticed here.

 

Derek pulled back. “You felt like you had to keep me safe, right? Before?” Derek watched him with those intense green-blue barely-human eyes as he nodded, and spoke again before Stiles even opened his mouth. “How was it? How did it feel, I mean? What brought you there to me?”

 

Stiles had to bite back a smile at Derek's rambling. He shrugged. “I don't know how to describe it. I just had to be there, with you, right then. I had this feeling deep in my gut like something bad was going to happen.” He frowned. “Like if I didn't get to you, something bad was going to happen.” He sighed and held out his hands. “Like I said before.”

 

Derek hummed softly, then his frown deepened. “I'm your charge...” He sighed. “That's not good.”

 

Stiles pouted. “How is that bad? I've already saved you more times than I could count on both hands... and possibly toes.” When Derek didn't even arch an eyebrow in his direction, Stiles huffed. “I'm clearly capable of keeping you safe. So why is it that now that I'm your official guardian that it's a bad thing?”

 

“ _Because!_ ” Derek growled, eyes going red for a second. “Stiles, you know how dangerous just being _around_ me is. If you have the instinct to throw yourself in front of everything that tries to kill me you'll be...” He swallowed, Adam's apple bobbing, and Stiles sat back, looking over the werewolf who was slumping back down onto the table, like he'd given up on life.

 

“Derek, it'll be fine.” He hopped up onto the table, his thighs clamping around Derek's middle as he leaned over him, fingers tangling in dark strands. “I was okay this time and I've been okay all the times before.” He shrugged. “Sure there have been some close calls but, come on.” He grinned. “I'm made for this kind of stuff, apparently. I'm like you're walking, talking, maybe-not-so-human-after-all shield.”

 

Derek rolled his eyes. _Well, that's a start._ He leaned back after pressing their lips together for a few seconds and clapped his hands together, beaming down at his mate. “Alrightly, I'll go get the doc to check you over one more time and then we can get out of here and move onto... ' _discussing_ ' more... _important things_.” Stiles waggled his eyebrows as he leaned closer and closer to Derek, nipping at his chin and his stubble and his bottom lip before moving into for a longer kiss, just to... make sure Derek knew exactly what they were going to be, er, _discussing_.

 

Derek snorted, lifting up with the barest little flinch before he hopped off the table. Stiles felt every inch of his body go warm when Derek curled an arm around behind his back, human-nails digging in slightly on his hip, marking him through denim. “As tempting as that is, I believe we have some research to do.” He brushed his thumb along Stiles' wing, stroking slowly down one of the longer feathers. “You need to know your weaknesses and strengths, especially if the Argent's are going to start coming after you.” At the mention of the hunters, Derek's hand tightened a little more, and Stiles' heart sunk a little, knowing exactly why Derek was holding onto him so tight. I'm... one of the few people he has, now...

 

Stiles grinned, cracking his knuckles as he held his wings around Derek, feeling the wolf's contented growls vibrating through them while they made their way out. “Research is my thing. We'll have time for a repeat performance tonight with Stiles doing the researching.”

 

Derek huffed out a laugh, sounding surprised, and Stiles grinned to himself. He was seriously starting to get a thing about making Derek laugh or smile. He didn't think Derek looking happier and actually seeming like he had emotions would ever not make Stiles ridiculously happy.

 


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Allison overhears her father and the other hunters; Stiles and Derek discuss the danger he's in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ugh, I've been so horrible at updating this. My only excuse is real life is slowly draining everything and all the rest of the time past work I've been konked out. :/ Sorry, ya'll. :(

 

 Allison knew as soon as the several SUV's pulled up into the driveway, that something was wrong. She quietly pushed away from her desk and moved down onto the balcony overlooking the entryway. She kept quiet, crouching down as she listened to her dad and the other hunters talk.

 

“We almost had him! Just one more second and we would've gotten him!” One of the older hunters yelled, while her dad frowned, looking over the bookcase that he'd always had locked before – during the time Gerard was staying with them, it was always opened, though, and considering that her dad always double checked the lock now she was sure that was solely her Grandpa's idea. “Where did he even come from, anyway?”

 

Her dad sighed, pulling a large, heavy-looking book from the shelf and bringing over to one of the entry tables before he flipped it open. “He was an angel.” He muttered, scanning through the pages as Allison leaned forward to try and see at least the diagrams in it. “They tend to just drop in like that.” He stopped, staring down at a page, fingers skimming over the words as he read. Allison could only barely make out a picture of, like her father said, something that looked like an angel.

 

Eventually, her father sighed. “Well, the guardian angel is going to make getting to Hale more difficult...” He paused a moment to look over the last few paragraphs. “But as soon as we get rid of him, Hale will be completely open.” He snapped the book shut, replacing it on the shelf as he spoke. “The bond breaking would leave him weaker. It'd almost be unfair attacking him after.”

 

The rest of the hunters broke into strategy, of ways to kill the angel and, after, Derek. Allison bit her lip lightly, fingering her phone in her pocket. Eventually, she tiptoed back into her room, and texted Scott everything she heard. She may not like Derek – at all – but she had a feeling that Scott should know, that there was something else there that was going on.

 

 

**_ur in trbl dude_ **

 

Stiles stared down at his phone, feeling his wings curling uncomfortably behind him. He gnawed on his lip for a moment, tapping his fingers against the sides for a moment before he sent back a text to Scott.

 

**_What happened?_ **

 

He only had to wait a few more seconds before he got a reply.

 

_**Allison sez her dad lookin fr angel u might wanna stay away frm derek.** _

 

Stiles' heart thudded in his chest, and he glanced up to his bed, where Derek was curled up, finally sleeping since they'd come back.

 

They'd stayed up trying to research as much as they could, Derek keeping watch as Stiles skimmed through every book Derek still had, and everything on the internet that could be the littlest bit useful – which, really, wasn't much. He knew he was still pretty much as breakable as any regular human. Unless he used his wings as a shield, which were a little bit less destructible, like a bulletproof vest. It would explain why he was able to pretty much stop the bullet from hitting Derek at all – and why he had the cut in his arm, which was partially exposed with how he was mostly curled around Derek.

 

As for any other vulnerabilities, he didn't know. He didn't know if he had an equivalent to Derek's wolfs bane. He also didn't know if he had any other strengths from the durable wings and the flying. Like, if he had any healing powers or anything – it was possibility; really, he was a guardian angel, you'd kind of think healing would come with the whole guardian thing. The only thing they could do to figure out would be tests and, honestly, they didn't really have anything to go on to test with.

 

Stiles frowned, then sighed and stretched a leg out, poking Derek with his toes. Derek's nose scrunched up before he groaned, voice heavy with sleep as he spoke. “What, Stiles.”

 

Stiles smiled slightly then scooted forward in his computer chair. “According to Allison, I have some hunters looking for someone with wings who hangs around you a lot.” Derek blinked once, eyes widening as he sat up, looking instantly alert as he stared over at Stiles. The teen chewed on his lip lightly then shrugged. “Scott suggests that I stay away from you but-hey, Derek, where are you-”

 

“I can't stay around you, Stiles.” Derek's voice, to probably anyone else, would sound normal, growly – which, really, one could argue that growly is Derek's default – but to Stiles it was sad, guilty, alike to the tone he had whenever he talked about Kate or his family. “I'm just putting you in danger.”

 

Stiles scrambled back, stretching out a wing when he realized he couldn't move fast enough so the path to the window was blocked. Derek huffed, bringing his hand up to curl his fingers into feathers for a moment before he glared over at Stiles. “Stiles...”

 

“No, Derek, come on.” Stiles curled the tip around Derek, pulling him in slightly, ignoring Derek's pouting as well as he could – Derek had an unbe _liev_ able pout, it made Stiles' heart do some funky things, okay? – as he finally tucked his arms around the werewolf. “You staying away from me? That's not going to help this. I'll just follow you, because that's pretty much how I'm programmed now. I'm going to have to always be around you because otherwise I won't know if you're okay, and I'll always worry about you and then, I'll really be screwed because if I'm constantly thinking about you and worrying then I'm just going to be even more vulnerable.”

 

Stiles took a deep breath, then let it out, staring hard at Derek who was staring right back, looking a little surprised. Well, Derek's version of surprise, anyway.

 

Derek tilted his head, expression thoughtful/angry, and then he sighed. “Fine.” Then he narrowed his eyes at Stiles. “You, are going to be carrying some kind of weapon around with you at all times. And you are also going to tell your dad about this, because any help we can get the better.” His frown deepened, and he ran a shaking hand over Stiles spine. “I... I can't lose you to them, too, Stiles. I can't...”

 

Stiles heart thumped pathetically in his chest, and his eyes started stinging. Taking a deep breath, Stiles nodded, pulling Derek back onto the bed before he curled his long arms as completely around the wolf as he could and closed his eyes. They'd already gotten through so much; if this did them in, there was just some _major_ injustice going on in the world.  


	11. He's Comin' For You (Yeah, He's Comin' For You)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles and Derek try thinking of other ways to help protect Stiles from the hunters.

Stiles lungs weren't really capable of working anymore. He'd been running for hours it felt like, trying to get away from the sounds of an army chasing after him. His wings were tucked close around him, so they wouldn't catch on any branches and slow him down. Of course, if he could just find a clear area maybe he could try...

Stiles braced himself against a tree and breathed, deep, heaving wheezes as he tried to think. Okay, he could do this. He knew there was a small clearing not too far from where he was – he'd been in the forest enough with Derek now to know it well – and if he could just make it there he could try flying out of reach. _Just around that gnarled oak there past a few pines and then I'm golden. Okay..._

Stiles ran, using the tree as leverage to push off and go faster. His legs felt like jelly, and the muscles in his back were tight and sore from his swinging arms, but his wings were all ready to unfurl, twitching and stretching as much as they could in the little space, preparing. Three more foot falls in dead leaves, and Stiles broke through a grouping of trees to the clearing. He grinned, took two more steps, then pushed up off the ground with his feet at the same time that he brought his wings down, and then he was up, inches and then feet coming between him and the earth. “Holy shit.” Stiles grinned to himself, his wings beating around him to keep him airborne. “It actually worked!”

Stiles was just about to do a victory lap in the air when Derek, Scott and Isaac broke into the clearing. Derek looked full of pride, and just a teeny touch angry. Or, you know, _a lot angry_. But it's _Derek_. It's written in his genetic code or something. “Get down here, Stiles, before you hurt yourself.”

Stiles just smirked down at his mate, then tucked his wings in closer, feeling the soft pressure of the air that was propelling him up disappear and he dropped. He landed on his ass, bounced once, then flopped onto the ground, laughing.

Derek rolled his eyes, then, with a very badly hidden – to Stiles anyway – smile he pulled the boy up. “While that may help you to get away from any hunters in a pinch, you're still going to have to defend yourself.” He paused for a moment, staring down at Stiles for a while, blue-green eyes flickering over the teen's face. The beta's around them shifted around awkwardly before dispersing, and Stiles had to bite into his cheek to hold back a smile.

Then Derek clucked his tongue, looking up to Scott, who was pointedly looking away, face scrunched up to a tree. “Would we be able to trust that... Allison girl with this? Would she tell the other hunters of Stiles?”

Scott looked up, face brightening at the mention of Allison – Stiles had to resist the urge to roll his eyes, then he had to think, and then worry about whether he did the same for Derek, now – then he paused, frowning for a moment. “I... I don't know.”

Stiles watched Derek stare at the beta for a few moments then he huffed. “If we can't do that, then maybe we can talk your father into teaching you how to use a gun.”

Stiles paused at the thought of flying through the air, pistols in his hands going all trigger happy, and he had to, again, bite at the inside of his mouth as he nodded.

After a few moments, they reset, Stiles being chased by the three werewolves again through the woods, figuring out different escape routes for different scenarios. When it got dark, the four of them made their way back to the Hale house, Derek already rubbing the sore muscles in Stiles' back from the flight he wasn't quite used to.

And even after they'd left, there was still someone tucked away in the trees, who had seen everything with wide brown eyes. Eventually, they'd wandered off, too, picking their way back to their car parked by the road about a mile out. The onlooker stared into the woods still after, and then they turned the ignition and started to their own home. They'd have a lot to think over after what they'd seen.

 

The sheriff was... less than thrilled when Derek brought up possible gun lessons.

“Dare I ask why?”

Stiles just continued to stare dejectedly down at his swinging feet, wings fluttering nervously around him. Derek squeezed the teen's hand under the table as he answered. “If someone finds out about Stiles, and they don't take it well, giving him some way to defend himself would be a good idea. If myself or one of my betas can't get to him.”

John Stilinski frowned, concern painting his features. He glanced over to his son, watching him as he toyed with one of his feathers. “Stiles?”

Stiles startled, then looked up, chewing on his lip for a moment then he shrugged and gave his dad a little smile. “It's just precautionary.” He dropped his fingers from the feathers. “Everything's alright.” He resolutely ignored Derek's staring at him to returned his dad's relieved smile.

“Alright then. I'll figure out some time to get you in to a gun range.” He paused a moment. “I... guess it would be different for you should you ever have to actually ever use it; you couldn't exactly be there and have your wings out, but it's something.”

Stiles nodded. “Yeah.” He stood up and hugged his dad, squeezing tight for a moment. “Thanks, dad.”

The father chuckled, and glanced over to Derek, who was staring hard to the table. He squeezed his son back, only pausing a moment when he felt the tickle of the feathers on his hands. He schooled his features from the confused expression he could feel before he pulled back, clapping Stiles on the shoulder as he went off to figure out his schedule. “Sure thing, kiddo. Just, be careful.”

Stiles nodded. “Always, dad.”

After the sheriff left, Derek looked up at Stiles. “You didn't tell him everything?”

Stiles sighed, shrugged one shoulder up. “I don't want to worry him.”

Derek frowned. “You need to tell him eventually, Stiles...”

Stiles nodded slowly, then looked down the hall after his dad, voice soft and small like the werewolf had never heard it. “I _will_. Just... not now.” He sighed. “He has too much to worry about right now.”

The alpha watched as his mate's wings sagged and he looked over to where his father had disappeared with a sad expression. He pushed up from his seat and curled himself around the younger man as well as he could. He pressed a kiss to the boy's temple, trying to at least comfort him. He couldn't do much except just try to be Stiles' shadow to protect him, and this.

Derek barely choked down a soft chuckle; it was a role reversal. Where Derek was usually the one running and trying his best to stay alive while Stiles scrambled to find ways to keep them all alive, now Derek had to find ways to help Stiles. _How does he keep up with all of us?_ Derek brushed his hands up and down Stiles' arms, feeling his angel sag slightly, tension bleeding out to the tips of his wings. _I will keep him safe, even if I kill myself doing it..._


	12. My Only Hope, My Only Peace My Only Joy, My Only Strength

 

Stiles had always felt the most safe around his mom. When she was alive, he was always following her around, staying glued to her leg so that feeling of calm and safety washed over him all the time.

 

Of course, there were many times when Stiles wouldn't be able to follow her. She would kneel down in front of him, her brown eyes wide and frantic as she spoke to him, her voice that same, steady calm despite it. “Stay here, Genim. I'll be back soon. Promise.”

 

And he always had, stayed exactly where she told him, waiting for her. After a few moments he'd start getting twitchy, the way he never was when she was around, and just when he was dying to go after her and find her, his mom would come rushing back around the corner, looking slightly worse-for-wear, but she'd just smile at him and all his nervousness and twitchy muscles and swirling brain faded off in the wash of calm. “You're back.” He'd always say.

 

She'd always smile at him. “I promised.” She'd always say back.

 

Then, there was the one day where she didn't come back. He was just six, waiting on the couch at home like she'd asked him to. He waited and waited, a sinking feeling settling in his stomach like a rock. It was well after night when he just... he knew that his mom wasn't coming back this time.

 

He didn't cry, not then. He knew he'd have to wait for his dad to come back, and maybe then he'd know why his mom wasn't going to be coming back. He pulled his blanket up from the floor where it'd fallen when she'd left, soft, fluffy white feathers brushing against his skin as he curled it around himself. He closed his eyes and kept waiting, not feeling much, until his spine and back lit up with pain.

 

He still didn't cry, though. No, little Genim just curled the feathery blanket his mother had ever since he could remember, and concentrated on the calm he didn't think he'd ever feel again. The twitches set in, and his brain swirled with thought after thought of what happened, what no six year old boy should ever have to wonder about.

 

And then, when it was pitch black in the room with no sign of either of his parents, the boy's vision tunneled down and there was a sharp crack, and a rip, and blinding pain for a split second before he felt that familiar calm again. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a tiny wing curling around him, dark gray feathers sticky like his back felt, and then he was out, the black creeping in his vision taking over as he tumbled off the couch.

 

After that, Stiles woke up, the gauze wrapped all around his chest, making it a little harder to breathe. He sat up, in his bed, and then a note tumbled down onto his lap. Picking it up, Stiles read the few words on there, then looking onto his nightstand down more rolls of gauze there. Biting his lip, Stiles plucked carefully at the gauze, and when it fell away he was smacked in the head with one of the wings, now clean. The feathers were fluffy, just like the blanket that he was holding the night before.

 

He stared back at them for a moment, before he hopped off of his bed, and padded over to the full-body mirror attached to his closet door. And there he was, the dark gray wings stretching out behind him, each one almost as wide as his torso was.

 

Stiles... didn't know what to do. He didn't know how this happened, or why. He wished his mom would've come back. She would've known what to do.

 

With his hands shaking and tears welling in his eyes, Stiles gathered up the gauze, and started wrapping it around himself. He fumbled, dropping the roll of gauze over and over until he just curled up on the floor and pulled the wings forward around him with his hands. He used the wall to help wrap the material around him.

 

After what felt like hours, young Stiles had managed to keep the wings down, and he'd pulled a t-shirt just a little too big for him over his head, then looked into the mirror. His eyes were red and puffy, and he could see the way his breaths were choppy and hard from the uneven way his chest fell and rose.

 

He glanced back over his room, where it was messy and there were feathers dropped here and there, and the note in the nest of sheets. He folded the note up neatly, stuffing it into the back of his nightstand drawer, then carefully picked up each feather, before he cleaned up the rest of his room, leaving behind no trace of the wings.

 

Stiles Stilinski wasn't the same since that day his mom hadn't come back. He knew that he'd also have to hide just how different he was since then, too. And he'd done pretty well, until Derek.

 

 

“Stiles?”

 

“Hmm?” Stiles looked up, seeing Derek giving him a worried look. He grinned at his mate and shrugged. “Just reminiscing a little. I'm fine.”

 

Derek frowned, setting aside the book in his hands – which... huh, it wasn't a bestiary or anything supernatural, weird – to move onto the bed next to him, curling his arms around the smaller of the two, burrowing his fingers into the soft feathers. “...I smelled salt.” Derek muttered as he pulled one hand up to Stiles cheek, and he'd only just felt the wetness there.

 

“O-oh.” Stiles tried to wiggle out of Derek's arms for a moment when he just gave up and slumped into the werewolf. “I... I was just thinking of my mom.” He paused a moment, then turned so he was tucked up into Derek's warmth, wings curling around him to keep it in. “I can kind of see it now... how I got them from her.” He gave a little smile. “There were so many white feathers all over the house when she was alive, and she'd even made me this kind of blanket for me with the feathers on it and in it and...” He trailed off and huffed. “She said that she'd made it for me so it'd always seem like she was there with me.”

 

Derek clucked his tongue, then, and curled a fraction tighter around him. I know, I'm sorry, I wish I could've met her. Stiles sighed and tilted his head up to press his lips to Derek's jaw, smiling when the Alpha made a noise between a whimper and a purr. “Yeah...” Stiles muttered, turned his head down again to tuck his face against Derek's throat. “Me too.”

 


	13. They Say Never Means Never

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Someone outside of the pack comes to help Stiles and Derek is kind of smooshy when it comes to his mate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh gosh, I'm sorry this took forever. Ugh. :(

  
Stiles stretched out in the bed, his wings fluttering around him before everything snapped back in toward the main part of him, nearly smacking himself in the face with the feathers. He blinked blearily, looking around for a certain werewolf he couldn't feel in the bed beside him. “Derek?”

 

There was no answer. Stiles frowned and pulled himself out of bed, stumbling around the room looking for a note or something Derek could've left behind for a clue.

_Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit! Not again!_ Stiles, now fully awake after not finding Derek or any signs of the werewolf anywhere, practically jumped into his jeans and pulled on a loose hoodie before he was bounding down the stairs. He didn't have that sinking feeling in his stomach yet, like last time, but that didn't mean that Derek wasn't _heading_ into danger. Stiles knew from experience that Derek was practically a magnet for danger.

 

Stiles was just skidding down the stairs when he heard Derek's voice coming from the kitchen, along with his dad, laughing. He stopped, having to grab onto the railing to stop from falling on his ass because of the sudden stop in momentum, then stepped forward enough to peer into the kitchen.

 

And, _huh._ Okay, maybe he was... _OW_ , okay, not still dreaming.

 

Stiles rubbed his arm where he pinched it and frowned as he watched Derek, standing in front of the stove, fumbling with a spatula and skillet full of eggs, and his dad settled up at the table, a half-eaten plate in front of him, the both of them talking. _Pleasantly_. Like his dad hadn't threatened Derek for dating him just a few days ago.

 

Derek looked up and gave him a little half smile, lifting the skillet from the heat and turning off the dial on the burner. “I thought I was going to have to drag you out of bed in a minute.” He scraped the food onto a plate and set it on the table, then tilted his head in Stiles direction. “You okay?”

_Other than possibly having an aneurysm..._ “Fine.” He walked into the kitchen and blinked when Derek pulled the chair out for him. _Okay._ Now _I'm suspicious._

 

Stiles' dad glanced between the two of them, before he finished up eating and got up. “Well kids, I've got to be in the station soon so I'll just... go.” He finished off awkwardly, before he patted Stiles shoulder and shared an odd look with Derek, and then he left, the front door slamming after him leaving Derek and Stiles alone.

 

“So...” Stiles started, drawing out the word as he poked at the eggs on the plate in front of him. They _looked_ edible, he just... he wasn't sure if he should quite trust Derek's cooking yet. Or intentions. Either one. “Dare I ask why you cooked my dad and I breakfast and you're being all nice to me?”

 

Derek frowned as he sat across from Stiles. “I'm always nice to you.”

 

Stiles arched a brow. “Oh, yeah, all the wall slamming and growling, that's being nice. Silly me. I thought all the threats were you being all growly and werewolfy and crap, not nice.”

 

Derek's frown deepened and he looked away. Stiles did notice, though, the slight blush bleeding high on Derek's cheeks and grinned. He was so going to call him out on that later. Right now, though... “Derek, come on. You know I'm not stupid. What's all this for?”

 

Derek flushed even darker then sighed. “Just... Trying to get on good terms with your father.” He shifted slightly, and Stiles felt a sudden pang of sadness as he got it.

 

“Oh.” Stiles muttered softly, then looked back down to the food. He frowned, then looked back up. “What were you two talking about?”

 

Derek's blush darkened and his wide, innocent eyes dropped to Stiles plate. “It's not going to kill you.” He huffed, and Stiles grinned. He knew Derek was avoiding the subject, and he'd be damned if he wasn't going to get it out of Derek somehow later. For now, though, he was going to let it slide. It was too early to interrogate people.

 

“Oh my god.” Stiles stared down at the plate of fluffy perfection. “This is actually good.”

 

“...I'm going to just pretend I'm not offended by that.” But Derek looked like a peacock... werewolf. Whatever. He was sitting straight, looking proud. “I used to cook all the time before... everything.” He made a vague gesture but... Stiles understood it perfectly well. Before Derek's life fell apart, because of one Kate Argent. Stiles took another angry bite of eggs just at the thought of her. He wished he could've gotten a shot at her before Peter killed her...

 

“Well, you should do it more. If I ate like this all the time... Mmmm...” He hummed around another mouthful and Derek grinned happily.

 

While Stiles scarfed down the rest of his breakfast, they'd decided they were going to go out for more training sessions. He was trying to fly more, longer, just in case he had to get away and he couldn't stop for a while. Scott showed up a little while later to help him with sparring, just in case he lost he weapon.

 

It was around about midday when Derek stopped, growling low in his throat and eyes going blood red. “Stiles, get inside the house, now.”

 

Instantly, Stiles panicked. He shoved it down enough to run past Derek and into the Hale house. He heard a car pulling up into the drive, then Derek's constant, rumbling growl. His heart picked up, thumping hard against his ribs.

 

Swallowing, he slowly crawled up enough to peek out the window, and saw Allison standing with her crossbow in hand, Derek half-shifted and looking near murderous.

 

Stiles frowned when he saw Allison talking, and for one moment he wished he had all the werewolf super hearing with everything else. He moved as quietly as he could, knowing Derek would probably lash out even more if he knew that Stiles was in Allison's view, Stiles moved back out of the house so he could hear.

 

Allison held her hands up. “I'm not here to hurt anyone, I promise.” She flinched back at Derek's growling but immediately after straightened up. “I overheard what my dad was going to do. And...” She glanced back to the house when she saw Stiles and... oddly, she didn't hesitate at all when she saw him, even as the wings twitched and folded around him protectively. “I know about Stiles. I have for a while.”

 

Derek growled again and shifted down onto all fours, starting to look even hairier around the gills, his eyes glowing a deep, dark red.

 

Allison clenched his jaw, looking determined, then held her crossbow up. “I'm here to help. I want to teach him. So my dad and the others won't hurt him.”

 

Derek relaxed, only just a little, and frowned. “How can we trust you?”

 

Allison stared at him for a moment then looked back to Derek, shrugging. “You can't.” Derek growled and she moved the cross bow in her hand, taking it so the handle of it was facing toward Stiles. Derek looked back, before he quickly spun back around to face Allison, snarling, muscles bulging as he moved back to hide Stiles from her. “I know you have no reason to trust me. I also know that, if I do anything to harm anyone here or your pack, you'll tear me to pieces.” She smiled when Derek huffed and looked back to Stiles, tilting the crossbow again. “I want to help Stiles.”

 

Stiles glanced down to Derek, who still looked wary, but moved slowly out of the way. When Stiles moved forward, though, he kept close behind, barely any room for air between them. With a shaky hand Stiles took the weapon from Allison, and it felt heavy and odd in his hand but, he felt safer. He looked up to Allison and gave her a shaky smile and she grinned at him.

 

Then she started schooling him, twisting around to his side, so she could move his hand around, fixing his grip on it, before she glanced around, looking for a target, then she turned him around toward a tree, half broken. She then glanced toward Scott, who was watching them – or, more likely, Allison – with a soft smile. “Scott, could you make us something to hit, please?” She ask, soundly perfectly professional, considering the two were madly, tragically in love just months ago. 

 

“Oh yeah, yeah, I'll...” He waved his hand as he jogged over to the tree they were facing and made three messy circles in the bark with his claws. Stiles could practically hear Derek rolling his eyes behind him and Stiles bit his lip to stop from laughing, his wings straightening, before Allison shifted closer, fixing his finger around the trigger and leveling his arms.

 

“Fire.” She muttered, and Stiles squeezed the trigger, watching it sail through the air until it buried itself in the bark, just riding the line of the outer circle of the target.

 

“Good.” Allison turned toward him, then looked over his shoulder to Derek. “I can sneak some supplies out. A harness so if he has to run, he can just hook it there and it wouldn't be in the way, and bolts. I can come out here for lessons every day after school and during the weekend, and any information I hear, you hear.”

 

Derek frowned, but he nodded. “You can teach him more today, then you come back tomorrow. You will call before you come here.”

 

Allison nodded, then turned back to Stiles, fixing his position again and stepping away to watch him shoot again. He hit a little closer to the center of the target and she grinned. “Tomorrow we can practice with you in the air. And maybe we can figure out a way to make moving targets for you.”

 

Stiles grinned, and moved the crossbow back into her hands to watch her reload it. “Thank you for this, Allison.” He tilted back to Derek. “I can still have my dad help, too.” He grinned. “I might actually get through this.”

 

Derek gave a small twitch of his lips and pulled Stiles a fraction closer, nuzzling into the soft rasp of his hair. “I'll make sure you do.” He tilted his head a little further down to press a chaste kiss to his temple, feeling the wings flap around him with Stiles joy.

 

“Okay.” Stiles cried giddily and took the crossbow, firing again, keeping it this time as he reloaded it just like Allison did, taking in her little smile as he did, and aimed again. He squeeze his finger on the trigger and this time it sailed through the air, before it embedded into the center dot of the target. He grinned and glanced around to everyone in the clearing, knowing with their help, he was going to survive. His smile softening, he looked back to Derek, voice going quiet. “Okay.” He muttered, and Derek gave him a small little grin back, before he ordered Allison away for the day, and they started their own little 'training' session.


	14. Won't You Lay You're Hands On Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A new threat runs into town, attacking the pack. Derek notices something off about them, and he takes care of Stiles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh gosh this is too laaaate. I meant for this to come out a lot earlier, but a lot happened in real life recently. I'll try to write when I can. Also, goes without saying, but I'm deviating from season 3. :P For anyone who's still with me, if there is anyone, I couldn't thank you enough for sticking with me.   
> Aaaand the rating may or may not have been upgraded.... Maybe. Possibly.

Stiles gasped, his shoulders aching, wind whipping violently around him as he churned his wings faster and harder through the air than he'd ever managed before. The sounds of wolves running beneath him, panting heavy and growling.

 

He turned hard, feeling the wind buzz harshly against his right wing and reached out, grabbing onto a tree and quickly tucking his wings in around him, hoping the dark and the earthy colors of his feathers helped him blend in, that he was high enough above them to be out of range of their senses.

 

They'd come out of nowhere, one moment he, Derek and Isaac were in a small clearing just about a half mile away from the Hale House. Derek was rubbing his back, helping relieve the ache in his shoulders from an hour of flight practice, and Isaac was running around, burning energy and entertaining Stiles with flips or purposeful falls with flailing limbs that Derek playfully teased Stiles with. The next moment, Derek's hands were pushing at him, Isaac was growling, spinning on his heels to face the forest in the direction of the house. Then there were bone-rattling roars, and several pairs of red eyes breaking through the trees.

 

Stiles stiffened when he heard the wolves moving below him, leaves crunching under their feet. He sucked in a quiet breath, trying to stop his wings from trembling. Just wait... wait until they're gone... then you can go back and check on Derek...

 

He could feel Derek through their connection, he could tell Derek wasn't too badly hurt, but the thought of leaving Derek to deal with that many alphas had Stiles fighting a panic attack. _Just breathe..._

 

One of the alpha's growled lowly, making Stiles have to squeeze his eyes shut and tense up all over just to stop himself from shaking. He heard the other one huff, sniffing around, until it snarled and slammed into the tree. Stiles gripped tighter as his perch shook beneath him, readjusting his wings around him to help him regain his balance. He strained his ears for the sound of their footfalls, leaves crunching away from him. He flinched when one of them howled, the sound rattling his bones, and the sound of their departure quickened until Stiles couldn't hear them anymore.

 

He let out a breath and slowly stretched out his wings, peering down from where he was perched on the tree top. He uncurled his arms and scooted back on the branch he was straddling before he heaved himself off and tilted his wings back to catch the wind, giving him time to level out. Keeping just below the tops of the trees, he unhooked the crossbow Allison had given him from his belt loops, glad he'd remembered to have it on him today, and kept an eye out for any more alphas that were heading near the Hale house.

 

Thankfully, he didn't have to use it. All signs of any unfamiliar werewolves are gone, including when he circled quickly around the house and the clearing they were in. He landed in the leaf covered driveway in front of the house, bouncing on his toes slightly to get his land-legs back after flying for so long. 

 

The door opened, and even before Stiles could turn around, he was being knocked fully to the ground by Derek. The alpha searched him all over, hands gentle as could be. Stiles looked him over in return, cataloging the damage; a deep gash in his cheek that was already stitching itself back together, and claw marks on his forearms. 

 

“You okay?” Isaac's small voice came from behind Derek. Before Stiles could answer Derek was burying his face into the curve of Stiles' throat, breathing deeply. 

 

“Fine.” Stiles mumbled into Derek's hair, pulling his head back when strands caught onto his lips. He could hear Isaac relaxing, the beta stepping a few feet back from them to give them their space as he pulled out his phone, probably to tell everyone else what just happened. Stiles let out a soft breath, ruffling Derek's hair, as he curled his arms around the alpha. He let his wings spread out, and instantly he felt Derek's fingers digging in, burrowing into feathers, clinging to them.

 

Stiles' lips twitch, but he stayed quiet. Instead he tucked himself into Derek's body, curling the wings in just enough for the tips to wrap around the base of the alpha's back, and closed his eyes.

 

Derek huffed, glaring at the room, at the world in general. Of course there would be a rival pack invading in his territory while hunters were out for his mate. It was his life, why wouldn't this happen. Derek glanced over to Stiles, who he'd moved once the younger man had fallen asleep beneath him onto the couch. _To top it off they're alphas..._

 

Derek remembered the scent, a stomach-churning mix of rotting flesh and fresh blood layered on an unfamiliar wolf. The panic he felt in that moment. He'd shoved Stiles away, hoping that he would have enough time to get away before the trespasser came. Then, just before Stiles was taking off into the air, about six different alphas broke through the tree line, three breaking off after Stiles immediately. 

 

Before they could get too far, though, Derek was pulling one of them back, claws digging into it's ankle before he twisted his arm back sharply, feeling the bone snap under his hand and the howl of pain vibrate through his fingers. A second later he was pinned by another alpha.

 

The fight was long, and bloody on the enemy alpha's part. The one that had pinned him was weak, seemed entirely new to even being a wolf, let alone and alpha. He'd turned her until she was the one pinned underneath him, caught the sharp look of fear replacing her cockiness, and slashed across her throat. She got one last second to claw at his arms, trying to push him off, before she sagged beneath him.

 

He was just turning to see how Isaac was dealing with any more stragglers when a howl broke through the air. He felt panic for a moment, straining to feel Stiles through the bond. Nothing seemed like it was wrong but... the bond was new, there was no telling if Derek could actually tell if Stiles was okay or not through it.

 

The other alphas all seemed to vanish, disappearing in all directions, leaving the one Derek had killed where she lay. Isaac wasn't too badly injured, considering, just a few scrapes and bruises. Derek tilted his head up to the sky, searching for Stiles once he'd deemed any danger gone and his pack alright.

 

“Unnngh...” Derek blinked, brought back to the present by Stiles waking back up. Honeyed-brown eyes fluttered a handful of times, and dark wings stretched until the feathers at the tips trembled, then Stiles sat up, face scrunched up. “...Derek?” Stiles looked up at him. “Those were alphas, right? As in, multiple, in a pack, alphas?” Derek nodded, and Stiles bit his lip. “So... an alpha pack? This actually exists? And, judging by tonight, wants to kill me?”

 

Derek choked down a growl at the thought of it. He took a deep breath, feeling his chest expand then shrink, then shrugged. “From what I could tell, at least some of them aren't very experienced. Maybe newly turned, even.”

 

Stiles frowned. “Really?” He leaned back into the couch cushions, eye brows furrowing as he spoke. “How would that be possible? In order to become an alpha you need to kill one, right? Is some guy going around making all these werewolves and... what, finding some random alpha for them to kill?”

 

Derek shrugged. “It seems a bit like it. Though how they'd have the control to form an attack against us, I don't know. Taking multiple new werewolves and giving them the power of an alpha in their first month sounds like a death wish, to me.”

 

Stiles shook his head, then glanced up to Derek again. “Did you get a hold of Deaton, or anyone else? This sounds like something they should know.”

 

“I called Scott.” Isaac's voice made Stiles jump, but he recovered quickly, grinning at the beta. “He called Deaton, and Allison. They should all be here soon.”

 

Derek gave Isaac a thankful nod; he'd been fretting over Stiles so much that he hadn't thought about contacting anyone about the attack. He looked back to Stiles, just catching the younger boy wincing as he stretched out his wings again. Derek frowned, then looked up at Isaac. “Would you mind waiting for them here while I have a word with Stiles?”

 

Isaac blinked once, then flushed and shook his head. “Um, no, it's... yeah, that'd be fine.”

 

Derek looked back to Stiles, biting back a grin when he saw red blooming across his cheeks and neck, then nodded his head back to the stairs, standing up to go up to the master bedroom.

 

Stiles scrambled up, almost running ahead of Derek, but he slowed, following after his mate. Derek listened to Stiles pounding heartbeat and grinned to himself. 

 

As soon as they were inside the room, Derek shut the door behind them, and before Stiles could speak, he moved the boy onto the bed, laying on his stomach, and moved over him, straddling him. He heard Stiles heart beat hard again and chuckled softly, stroking his hand down the center of Stiles back, underneath the shirt he was wearing. The shirt that he was borrowing from Derek, their scents mingled together in the fabric. Derek leaned down to breath the scent in, his wolf growling contentedly.

 

“Um... Derek...?” Stiles stuttered. Derek hummed, leaned back up to work his fingers into the skin between Stiles wings. Stiles groaned and sunk into the bed, his wings twitching as they spread out and relaxed. 

 

“You're sore.” Derek muttered, moving another hand up to rub the base of one of the wings, grimacing along with Stiles when he felt the knot of tension there from overworking them. 

 

“Mughhh...” Stiles moaned into the pillow, arching up into Derek's hands. They sat there for a while, Derek slowly working the tension out of his mate's back. After a few minutes passed, Stiles wiggled underneath him. Derek lifted up, giving the younger man room to move a bit, just enough for him to pull the shirt off before he spread back out, sprawling across the sheets. “Mmkay... Go at it.”

 

Derek hummed, pleased, and returned his hands to Stiles' back, massaging both of the wings at the same time, leaning forward to nuzzle at the warm space of skin between them. Stiles groaned, turning his face into Derek's pillow. Derek could smell the arousal coming off of Stiles in waves, heady and strong. The scent was spicy, but achingly sweet, it made Derek want.

 

A deep growl rumbled out of him, vibrating through Stiles' skin, and he licked his lips, tasting some of the sweat on Stiles' back. As much as he wanted to, though... he was going to wait. He rumbled again and licked up Stiles spine, getting another taste of his mate's skin to hold him over, before he pulled back, sitting up and resting back on Stiles' ass.

 

“Derekkkk.” Stiles whined, arching up, pushing his butt into Derek's crotch. Derek clamped his jaw tight, feeling his fangs practically pop out and his claws just skirting Stiles' skin as he yanked them back. “Please, please... I need it, Derek. I need you to touch me, fuck me...” Derek's mouth went desert dry, he moved back a little only to be knocked back by a particularly forceful buck of Stiles' body. Stiles pause a moment in his rambling then moaned, the sound rattling to Derek's core. “Claim me, Derek, please...”

 

Derek froze, feeling his jaw drop open at Stiles' words. His wolf howled achingly to do exactly what Stiles wanted. But... but he was going to. No, he had control. He could wait, he _would wait_.

 

The alpha sucked in a deep breath, letting his chest inflate all the way, then let it out and pushed off. “No, Stiles.” He bit into his cheek when Stiles whined. “No, we... have to go down and talk with everyone. Tell them about the attack, remember?”

 

Stiles tilted his head to the side, his bottom lip puffy from where he was biting it, then he sighed. “Not fair...” He whined again. “Why can't Isaac tell them? He was there, too. They can just wait a bit for us to finish up, right?”

 

Derek stared down at Stiles body, where he wanted to rake his claws over the pale expanse of his back, lick over his marks, mark Stiles all up with his claws and teeth and come...

 

Derek shook his head violently, trying to shake out the images that were rushing around his brain and pumping more blood down south. “I can make a deal with you if you go right now?”

 

Stiles perked up, turning so he was partially facing the alpha, brows raised in question. Derek swallowed and shrugged. “I can help you after the meeting. No touching.” He emphasized. He'd already done enough touching. He just had to wait a few more months, that was it. Then he could have Stiles fully... _Just... a few months._ “We'll figure it out then. Or, I could go down there and you can stay here and get off alone.”

 

Stiles jumped up, nodding. “Okay, okay.” He huffed. “That's better than nothing.”

 

Derek smiled, feeling his lips curl just slightly more when Stiles' heart thumped, his mouth dropping open. “Good.” He crawled off the bed, pulling Stiles up with him, and started toward the door. He could hear Stiles' wings fluttering around him, almost irritated. It should mean that he was feeling a little bit better, at least.

 

Before he walked out, Derek turned back around to make sure Stiles was following. He swallowed, watching Stiles flattening the feathers on his wings to try to get rid of the marks Derek's fingers left, pouting as he did, bottom lip still puffy and red. _Just a few months..._ He reminded himself, facing back toward the door when Stiles looked up. _Just have to control myself until then..._


	15. You've Got Me Beggin'

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Derek strikes a deal with Stiles, the pack gathers to talk about the alpha pack, Derek and Stiles get some alone time together (read; sexy time).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay! Got next chapter up a little early since I finished the one after this. That and tomorrow is going to be stupid busy so getting it up now.

By the time they'd made it down stairs, Scott and Allison were already walking in, Isaac welcoming them in, still with a slight blush to his face. And... Stiles was going to pretend that Isaac couldn't hear a thing they were saying up in the bedroom. It made him feel not as bad to think that Isaac was blissfully unaware that they were arguing about whether or not they were going to sex it up now or later, or that he heard the way Stiles was begging for Derek to...

 

Derek cleared his throat, and Stiles shook his head to clear it. _Right, not the time. Sexy time was later. Now was discussion time and possibly war strategy time. Head, thoroughly out of the gutter now._

 

“Hey.” Scott smiled, rushing halfway up the stairs to grab at Stiles. His friend checked him over, making sure he wasn't hurt, just like Derek did earlier. “You're okay.”

 

Stiles nodded. “Yeah, I ran away and then held onto a tree until they went away.” At Allison's look of confusion he shrugged. “They weren't very good at being werewolves.”

 

“Which brings us to our first point.” Derek called, coming down the rest of the way from the stairs and looking up at Stiles and Scott until they started down after him. “From the way they performed and reacted, almost all of the alphas seemed entirely new. Whether it's true, or if they just never accepted the change and embraced it, or ignored it, we don't know.” He paused, looking around at everyone and nodding for them all to follow him into the den, where Derek and Isaac had moved anything that could be used as some form of furniture, from the crates and ratty pillows to the actual couch pushed up against the wall with rips and stuffing flowing out. 

 

“So.” Allison started, and Derek flinched, turning his eyes on her, where she was perched on the edge of the couch. “You're suggesting that they just took a handful of people, turned them, and somehow made them all into alphas?” At Derek's nod she frowned. “How would that work? That kind of power just can't go out freely, can it? You have to kill the alpha before you to become one, isn't that how it usually goes?”

 

“Yes.” Derek hesitated slightly in answering. Stiles reached out to grasp Derek's hand. He knew it had to be hard for Derek to share any kind of information with someone he'd seen as an enemy for so long, and probably still saw as an enemy. But Allison had seemed like someone they could trust, at least partially. 

 

Derek sagged a little when their hands laced together and breathed out a sigh before he continued. “We also have no idea how many there are. Or if they could make more, how long it would take to make up for any losses they have.” He glanced over to Isaac. “Counting from last night, there are at least five of them.”

 

“So, what do we do?” Scott spoke up, looking up to Derek. Stiles felt himself sag in relief along with Derek, glad his friend seemed to be accepting Derek more and more. 

 

“We'll have to see if we can find where they're hiding. And, if we can find who's in command of them. If we can take him out, then it should be easy to take care of the rest of them.” He stood up off the couch, slowly untangling his hand from Stiles' as he spoke. “There's the body of one of them not too far from here. When Deaton comes he can examine her to find out more about them, see if they're really what they seem to be. Before then, though, we can try to pick up any scents or marks from her that could hint us to where they're hiding.”

 

He looked back to Stiles. “I want you to stay here with Isaac. If they decide to come back while we're out then at least you can have someone here to protect you.” He looked to Allison. “And you can come with us.”

 

Allison looked ready to argue, but before she could get a word out Scott was standing up, squeezing her hand. Her mouth shut, and he huffed, but followed after the two wolves. _Huh._ Stiles watched them leave, noticing how Scott and Allison were still holding hands as they followed Derek out. 

 

“Wonder when that happened...” He muttered once they were gone.

 

Isaac shrugged, getting up off the crate he was sitting on and flopping onto the floor by Stiles. He tilted his head up, a small, shy smile curling his lips. “So, you're really okay?”

 

Stiles resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Werewolves... “Yeah, I'm good.” 

 

Isaac grinned. “Good.” He dropped his head back down to look straight ahead for a moment. Just a second later, tilting it back again to look back up at Stiles. Well, more specifically, at the wings. “Would it... um, be weird if I...”

 

Stiles bit his lip, he wasn't used to them being touched that much. Well... with Derek, he was but... it was different with him. He remembered the feeling of when Scott did, how different it was, then shrugged. It couldn't hurt. 

 

He stretched out a wing, slowly, holding it within the beta's reach. Isaac reached up, hesitating a moment, then curled his hand up, using just one finger to trace lightly along a line of feathers. Again, it was a different feeling, but not unpleasant. Just soft, gentle warmth radiating through him. He glanced back down to Isaac and smiled. Isaac looked fascinated, happy.

 

“They're so soft...” He muttered, then glanced up at Stiles, pausing another second, before he unfolded his fingers to stroke along the arch.

 

The two sat like that for a while, Stiles keeping himself partially right there, the other feeling for Derek's presence, waiting for something to happen on the other end of his connection. After a while, he started dozing a little bit, Isaac warm where he was leaning against Stiles' leg now, fingers brushing gently through the feathers.

 

When Stiles woke up next, Isaac was moved over, laying against his other leg, and Derek was pressed into his side, talking quietly to Scott, who was sitting on the floor near him. Stiles glanced around the room; Allison didn't seem to be there anymore, and there were several candles laid out to light up the room, the little light that was shining through the windows earlier gone now.

 

“What'd I miss?” Stiles shifted, letting everyone know he was awake now. Though, judging from the way Derek's hand was clutching at his side since he'd woken up, he'd known. 

 

Derek huffed, looking annoyed. “We couldn't find anything. It smelled like she'd covered it up, she just smelled of mud and blood. There was a hint of something under it, but it was too vague to pick out.”

 

Stiles nodded sleepily, then remembered Deaton was supposed to come. “What about our favorite mysterious veterinarian? Did he drop by to check her out?”

 

Scott nodded. “He did, but he couldn't find much.”

 

Derek sighed. “He took a blood sample from her, and from Scott and myself. He says he's going to come back to us to see if he can find anything different about it. But just from examining her, he said she seemed like a normal alpha.”

 

“He also took her body to do some more tests with the equipment.” Scott mentioned. “I'm supposed to come by tomorrow before work to help him.”

 

Stiles nodded, still sleep-lagged, his brain taking in the information bit by bit. He stretched out a bit, trying not to move Isaac too much, then tipped his head onto Derek's shoulder. Derek smelled off sweat, earth and... coffee, a little bit. Stiles hummed and turned his head so his nose was buried there, breathing Derek in. He felt Derek's pulse jump against his cheek and smiled slightly. 

 

He jumped when Scott clapped his hands together. “So, since I have to get up early I think I'm going to go. I'll see you guys tomorrow sometime, bye.” He rushed out, standing and nearly running out the door. Stiles buried his smile into Derek's shoulder, trying not to laugh. It felt really good that he could finally get some revenge for all the times Scott had over-shared about Allison.

 

Isaac stretched out a little, before he stood up too. Stiles opened his eyes to look up at the beta, catching him yawning and looking anywhere but at the couple. “I think I'll go to bed, too.” He looked between them and flushed slightly. “Um... night?” Stiles bit into his cheek as Isaac turned tail and walked down the hall to his room. The 'please don't wake me up with your loud, awesome sex' was unsaid.

 

Derek shook his head. “You're terrible.”

 

Stiles grinned, tilting his head up to smack a kiss to Derek's stubble-covered jaw. “Yep.” He shifted against Derek, moving so he was straddling the alpha, catching the flicker of red in his eyes. “So, I recall a certain deal we made. Where you helped me achieve orgasms?”

 

Even Stiles could hear Isaac's groan down the hall. Derek choked back a laugh – that was partially moan, even if Derek wouldn't admit it – and pushed Stiles off of him, grabbing his hand to pull him up the stairs. “Terrible. Completely and absolutely _awful_.”

 

Stiles beamed and hopped off one of the last step, pulling Derek to a stop and nipping at his shoulder. “You love it.”

 

Derek didn't argue, just reached back and grabbed Stiles' by his thighs, lifting him up and carrying him the rest of the way into the bedroom. When there, he dumped Stiles onto the bed, then paused. He looked unsure as to whether or not he should climb on with him, red just barely seeping into hazel.

 

Eventually, to Stiles' disappointment, Derek pulled up a chair, moving it just out of Stiles' reach, and sat, licking his lips while he looked Stiles' over. Stiles shuddered under Derek's heated gaze, watching as the red rim grew wider, and Derek's teeth a little longer.

 

“Okay.” He relaxed a little, leaning back in the chair and letting his legs fall open, making Stiles' mouth water and his arousal come rushing back in a huge, crushing wave. “Tell me what you want me to do, anything, except touch you.” Derek's already-lust-rough voice rumbled, sending tremors through Stiles body.

 

Oh god... Stiles' brain came up with so many options at that moment, every one seeming better than the last. Maybe... start with something small... Stiles sucked in a breath, already feeling like he wasn't getting enough air, and let himself relax into the bed, moving up against the wall so he could watch better. “Um, shirt off, I guess...”

 

Derek smirked, then straightened up, and slowly, pulled his shirt up and off, tossing it somewhere neither of them seemed to pay attention to. Stiles swallowed, letting his eyes drag over every inch of Derek's muscled chest. 

 

“Next?” Stiles jumped, looking back up to Derek's face. Derek looked a little less toothy, though his eyes were still that bright, powerful red. Stiles swallowed, settling more into the bed, letting his hands drop to rest on his thighs. He caught Derek's smirk widening, but ignored it in favor of thinking about what he wanted next.

 

“So... would full nudity be out of the question?” Stiles tried, his mouth already watering at the thought of Derek, completely uncovered, all bare just for him.

 

Derek tilted his head, thinking it over, then stood up. He bit his lip lightly and popped the button on his jeans, the sound muted by the fabric of them, but all too loud in the quiet room. Stiles watched as the alpha slowly, so slowly dragged the zip down. Derek then shucked them off, tossing them vaguely in the same direction of his shirt. He hesitated another moment, his thumbs tucked in the band of his – thankfully, wonderfully – tight briefs. 

 

They were pulled down an inch, then another, enough where Stiles could see the thick, dark trail of hair start toward little – or from the looks of things, big – Derek was. Then, Derek stopped, sitting back in his chair with his smug little smirk. Stiles whined, squeezing himself through his jeans. Derek chuckled and licked his lips, nodding for Stiles to give him the next command.

 

Stiles... figured he might've been pushing a bit for this one, but... he could try. “Could you... talk for me?”

 

Derek arched a brow, frowning slightly, then his eyes brightened, a wolfish grin spreading across his face. “That's it, just talk? What do you want me to talk about?”

 

Stiles licked his lips, not noticing the low growl from Derek when he did. “Um... about... about what you'd want to do to me...?”

 

This time, Stiles could hear the growl loud and clear, his body trembling at it. He quickly worked the snap and zip on his own jeans off and reached inside to hold himself, waiting for Derek.

 

Derek rumbled again, and when he started, his voice was low, husky, almost feeling like a physical presence against Stiles body. “The things I would do to you, Stiles. I think about it every minute of the day. I would keep you locked up all to myself if I could, just play with you all day long.” Derek hummed, tracing his thumb along the rough trail of hair at the v of his hips, chuckling when he noticed that Stiles was watching the movement. “I'd lay you out, explore every inch of you, slowly, for hours, just touching, tasting every part of you, until you can't take it anymore... Then I'd start to open you up...” Stiles groaned; Derek had moved his hand down, rubbing over his obvious hard on as he spoke now. 

 

Derek shifted, watching Stiles as he took a breath. His dark gaze was glued to where Stiles had his hand shoved in his pants. He growled suddenly. “Show me.”

 

Stiles shivered hard, then lifted his hips, shimmying his jeans and boxers down enough to pull himself out. Derek rumbled, low and dangerous. The sound made Stiles hips hitch up, a bead of pre-cum forming at the slit. Derek licked his lips, then continued talking. “I'd fuck you open with my fingers and tongue, until you were writhing with it.” A corner of his mouth twitched up and he chuckled lowly. “Maybe until you came, maybe multiple times. Then, when you were pliant, lazy from orgasm, I'd finally push in my cock.”

 

Stiles' orgasm crashed onto him, almost the same feeling as falling, then suddenly hitting solid ground. He brought a hand up to bite into, trying to quiet himself as he came. Before he could, though, Derek was up, snatching his hand away, and pushing his mouth onto Stiles, swallowing every moan.

 

Slowly, Stiles relaxed, pulled his hand off himself with a sticky sound that made him wince, and opened his eyes – he couldn't even remember when he'd closed them – to look up at Derek.

 

Derek was panting, staring down at where Stiles was a complete mess, his hand and crotch sticky with release. Stiles glanced down, and swallowed around the hard lump that dropped in his throat. Derek was rubbing himself through his boxers still, just the head peaking out about the waist band. But that didn't matter, the way Derek's fingers were curled around himself, it framed him enough that Stiles could practically see everything. “Fuck.” He breathed, feeling his dick twitch at the sight. Derek groaned at him, then white was pumping onto his abs.

 

When Derek was finished, he collapsed down onto the bed beside Stiles, panting heavily.

 

Stiles kept his eyes on the mess on Derek's stomach, as he waited for Derek's breathing to even out a bit, and for Derek to settle back into the bed a bit. Then he looked up at him. “Could I taste?”

 

Derek choked and dropped his head back on a groan, eyes squeezing shut tight.

 

Stiles grinned and leaned forward. _I'll take that as a yes._


	16. Chapter 16

“Oh my god, please tell me you guys are decent.” A door slammed loudly. “ _No_! No, not decent!” 

 

Stiles blinked awake, looking around the room.

 

“I _knew_ there was a reason Isaac looked traumatized. Why did I even...”

 

_Scott?_

 

Stiles hopped up out of bed, taking a look at Derek first – who was just as Stiles left him, mostly naked, sticky with cum, and _completely_ debauched – then himself, before he grabbed his boxers off the floor where he'd kicked off his pants, and wiped himself off. After he was as clean as he'd get without a shower, he tugged on his pants and opened the door, and flashed Scott a nice, big, shit-eating grin. “Hey Scott, ol' buddy, ol' pal.”

 

Scott looked like he was about to either faint or throw up. “ _I hate you_.” He shoved at the door, then gave a silent shriek and looked away. Stiles looked back to see Derek had moved and now his legs were spread nice and wide facing the door. Scott whimpered pitifully. “At least put some kind of warning, a sock on the knob or something.”

 

“I'll put a condom up, make sure you know.” Scott made a sound like he was dying, and he heard Derek snort behind him. Stiles nudged Scott with his foot, done with his fun for now. “What's up?”

 

Scott sighed. “Other than my severe need for _brain bleach_...” He shifted on his feet. “Deaton says he found something odd about the girl and needs you guys to come in. _Preferably_ clothed and showered.” He grimaced and looked to the ground. "I'm going to go meet up with Allison to help her get some supplies from her house while her dad's gone."

 

Stiles nodded and saluted his friend. “Sure thing, we'll be there in about an hour.” Then he grinned, feeling a little bit evil. “For now... We have certain _naughty things_ we must do.”

 

He closed the door, chuckling when he heard what sounded like Scott crying. Derek stretched and moved up so he was leaning back on his forearms, shaking his head fondly. “I think you broke him.”

 

“Correction, _we. We_ broke him.” He winked. “I could hear you laughing back here.”

 

Derek rolled his eyes, then got up. He moved toward Stiles and grasped his chin, pulling the younger boy in for a kiss before he tugged him to the connected bathroom. Which... was actually quite elegant, clearly remodeled, and fully functional from the looks of things. Huh. “I didn't think you'd even have running water. I definitely didn't think you'd have all of _this_.”

 

Derek blushed a bit, shrugging. “I... may be fixing up some things around here.” He turned on the shower – which, looked expensive; smooth, new tile and sleek, shining shower heads, two on opposite walls, and enough room for the both of them to stand in comfortably – and started pulling off Stiles clothes. 

 

When Derek started tugging his own briefs down Stiles gave him a look. “I thought you were against full nudity in front of me.”

 

Derek shrugged. “I can make an exception for a little bit. It'll be faster if we shower at the same time.”

 

Stiles didn't argue, mostly because Derek chose that moment to tug the last piece of clothing he wore completely off. Stiles swallowed and stepped back into the shower, Derek following after with a small grin.

 

Derek... was being maybe a little bit selfish.

 

After the long, long night he'd spent getting Stiles off with just his words and body, Derek just couldn't help himself. He'd restrained himself almost the entire time, just wanting to pounce on Stiles, actually _show_ him everything Derek was saying he'd do to him.

 

Derek licked his lips and glanced back, watching Stiles as he washed himself, already smelling like Derek from the two of them being wrapped around each other all through the night. Even as he was washing most of it off, he was using all of Derek's soaps, almost mimicking his scent.

 

Derek swallowed back a contented growl and focus back on his own shower. It seemed like the more time he spent around Stiles, the harder it was to remember that he was waiting, and the longer those few months felt.

 

“You done?” Derek jumped at the sound of Stiles voice, loud in the enclosed space of the shower and turned. Derek was temporarily distracted by the beads of water clinging to Stiles' eye lashes, and the way his wings twitched from the water running down them. He spent another second patting his past self on the back for the idea to invest in this shower. Past Derek was a _genius_.

 

“Mmm. Mostly.” Derek eventually muttered. Feeling bold he reached past Stiles, rubbing against him and lightly tracing a hand over Stiles warm and mole-spotted chest, watching it redden under his fingertips, reaching with his other hand to grab his body wash. He grinned at Stiles as he'd pulled back, Stiles staring at him with his mouth hanging open. “I'll be done in a little bit if you want to start drying up.

 

Stiles silently bobbed his head, still gaping, then scrambled out of the shower when Derek started soaping up. 

 

Derek laughed to himself, feeling a genuine smile curling his lips, and concentrated half on washing the suds off his body and half on the sound of the towel brushing over Stiles' skin.

 

When he was done, Derek turned off the water of his shower head and stepped out, grabbing his towel off the... Hm...

 

Derek pulled the towel off the rack that actually wasn't his towel and looked up to Stiles, watching the teen curling Derek's towel around his waist, wings still twitching from the water clinging to them, and Derek had to choke back a growl. Stiles... Stiles had to know at least half of the things he was doing to Derek. The image from last night, of Stiles leaning over Derek's stomach, licking off his cum. Fuck... He wanted to just ravage him then, push Stiles down and just... drive him insane. Slowly, thoroughly insane, just as he was always doing to Derek.

 

“Der, you okay?”

 

Derek blinked from where he was staring at Stiles' stomach, right where the thick trail of hair was leading under the towel that radiated Derek's scent. “Uh?” Stiles grinned and Derek shook his head, cleared his throat and glared. “What.”

 

Stiles snickered, then cut himself off, choking back more laughter as he turned around and looked over his shoulder to Derek. “Think you could help me get these straight and dry them off?” He stretched the wings out for emphasis, and Derek was probably always going to be surprised just how much room they took up when they weren't tucked around Stiles small body.

 

“Mmm.” Derek hummed, a little bit of a growl melting into it. Any excuse for him to touch Stiles was a good one. Just... helping out my mate. Derek told himself as he reached out, grabbing a hand towel and patting the feathers dry, gently moving them with the cloth into place. He tried his best to ignore the sound of Stiles' heart beat speeding up, or the scent of Stiles' arousal that seemed to be filling the room up just as much as his wings did.

 

The grooming – Derek also ignored how pleased his wolf was about the thought of grooming Stiles – took about ten more minutes, so by the time that Stiles and Derek were padding downstairs, dressed comfortably because they'd both agreed that today was going to be a lazy day after they'd finished meeting with Deaton and the pack, it was already nearing noon.

 

Despite that, Derek could smell fresh coffee and donuts – probably enough to feel a small army and then some. Stiles groaned when he saw the stack of pastry boxes, practically running into the kitchen and tackling them, then groaned again when he saw his salted-maple-bacon bars. “Whoever did this, I love you forever and ever.”

 

“Love you too, Stiles.” Isaac teased as he walked past Derek, grabbing one of the coffees sitting next to the box of donuts. Derek had to resist wrinkling his nose at the strong scent of peppermint radiating from the cup and Isaac just shrugged at him, sipping from it with an appreciative hum. Granted, they only got a little bit of the effect from the coffee, so they really just drank them for the taste, but still. Derek grabbed a thankfully black coffee – with a spoonful of cream and a dash of milk just how he liked it – and snuck around Stiles to steal away one of the boxes with normal donuts.

 

When they'd had their fill, the three of them killing off two of the seven boxes – teenage werewolves; they were just ravenous – and Derek was working on his second coffee, they took off. Isaac stayed behind to wait for Scott and Allison, just in case they showed up before the meeting with Deaton finished. Derek and Stiles hopped into the Camero once they'd had Stiles wings wrapped up, just to keep them out of view while they were in public.

 

“So, what's up doc?” Stiles smirked as he walked in, making Derek roll his eyes fondly and Deaton just give the both of them a blank stare. Stiles huffed and leaned back against one of the exam tables in the room he was it. “What'd you find?”

 

“Well.” Deaton looked up to Derek, “I wasn't exactly sure, when I first saw it, what it could be.” He started out of the room, motioning for the both of them to follow. He walked down the hall, then went through a door that was restricted to the public, holding it open for them and then locking it afterward. He walked them over to a table, a sheet laying over it. When Deaton lifted it, the girl was underneath it, white and cold and smelling of decay. Derek wrinkled his nose but stepped closer when Deaton pointed to a mark in the center of her chest. 

 

It was a black, messy circle, a crescent moon splitting the inside of it with a symbol Derek couldn't recognize, the outside of it spreading out into three spirals. Derek raised his eyebrows to the vet. “What does it mean?”

 

Deaton frowned. “It has several meanings.” He traced the shape of the moon. “This, with the markings on the inside, is a symbol to give power through the moon, through all of it's phases, control.” He moved to the spirals. “These are used to tie the mark together, shaping it and concentrating all it's power into the core of the person using it, thus why it's marked at the center of her chest.” Then to the symbol Derek couldn't recognize. “And this... this is one of the markings of an angel.” He glanced up to Stiles, who looked to be taking all of this information in like a sponge, and who blinked up from the girl's body to stare at Deaton.

 

“Like... my type of angel?” When the vet nodded Stiles frowned. “Okay. So what does that mean?”

 

Deaton looked back down to the girl, following the smooth, curving lines of the mark, almost following the shape of Stiles' wings when they were curled loosely behind him, but instead it curled out near the end, curving up around the moon. “This means they had an angel give them this mark, and from out it's formed around the moon, it seems like it was given for protection as well, a blessing on her.”

 

Derek snorted. “It didn't seem to do much good to her, did it?”

 

Deaton shook his head. “Which could mean either the angel that gave it to her died, or they took away their blessing.” He shrugged. “Either way, there's no way for me to find out which.”

 

Derek nodded. “So, did you find anything else?”

 

Deaton hummed, reaching under the table to pull out a group of papers. He flicked through them as he spoke. “Her blood, the sample I got from her was off. Not by much, it was something I caught just at the last second.” He looked up to Derek. “Comparing her blood sample to yours, with your alpha power, it doesn't match. The cells in her blood seem weaker, and less stable.” He paused a moment. “And, there was something else that was odd about it...”

 

_Clink._

 

Derek started, then looked around the room for the source of sound. He frowned, not finding anything, then looked back down to the corpse. Now... now that Derek looked she seemed different. He couldn't quite place how, though.

 

In the background, Derek could hear Deaton talking, but... he couldn't concentrate on the words. Something felt off suddenly.

 

_Clink._

 

Derek blinked, unsure if he saw... did... did she just move...?

 

Derek watched in disbelief as her hand twitched, her nails tapping against the table, so slightly he couldn't be sure if she'd really moved. Then her chest rose with an inhale as the back mark on her chest started glowing a hot red, tendrils of smoke rising up in the air. This wasn't good.

 

“Stiles.” He pulled back on the teen. “Stiles, we have to go.”

 

Stiles glanced back at Derek, then looked to Deaton, or... where Deaton was. Stiles stiffened then nodded, following Derek to the door.

 

Then there was a roar that made everything in the room shudder, and the table behind them crashed into the wall right beside them. Derek spun around, seeing the girl there, looking more wolf than girl now. She... didn't seem like an alpha though, she seemed more out of control than any alpha should be.

 

“I thought she was supposed to be dead!” Stiles yelled out, scrambling after him out the door as the girl lunged toward them, hitting the wall with a sickening crunch that was followed by a pained howl.

 

Derek huffed, tugging Stiles along as he ran down the hall. They were just reaching the counter, where Deaton was waiting, a bag of mountain ash covering most of the counter aside from a section just big enough for them to get through. Derek glanced back, the cursed. The girl wasn't much girl anymore, now in the shape of a beast similar to what Peter looked like, that first year he knew Stiles. One of her wrists were broken though, her hand limp as she ran on all fours after them, eyes red and wild, no sign of humanity behind them at all.

 

Derek turned back around and leaped over the barrier, tugging Stiles after, and Deaton swooped in, sealing the line of mountain ash. The alpha hit the barrier, whining for a second, before she started growling, snapping at Derek and Stiles. 

 

“Derek...” Stiles muttered, staring at her where she was swiping at them, seeming obsessed with getting to them. “Are we going to get with the killing, anytime soon?”

 

Derek looked up at Deaton. “Would I be able to kill her? She just got up after last time. Is there a way for me to keep her down?”

 

Deaton shrugged, opening his mouth to respond, but before he could speak, there was a flash of black in front of Derek's eyes, then a splash of red with the scent of blood sparking through his senses. Derek blinked, and the alpha roared out, before she crumbled to the floor. Stiles was perched on the counter top in front of her, his wings burst through the wraps and his clothes and blood sprayed over his arm where he was holding a... part of a picture frame, it looked like.

 

Stiles was breathing hard, the sound loud in the suddenly quiet room, and his wings folded in slightly, enough for Derek to see Stiles face where... his eyes looked off. Lighter, much brighter than Derek was used to, to the point they almost looked like they were glowing a very light gold.

 

“Stiles?” Derek inched forward, gently put a hand on Stiles' shoulder, then jumped back when Stiles flailed around, slipping from his crouched position onto his butt on the counter. “Are... what was that?”

 

Stiles blinked, looking between Derek and Deaton, who was staring at Stiles almost in fascination. He slowly looked back to Derek, shrugging his shoulders up a little. “I... just followed my instincts?” He tilted his head back to look at the girl. “I sort of just... moved without thinking about it.”

 

“Interesting.” Deaton murmured, causing the both of them to stare at the vet. He nodded toward Stiles, lifting up one of the strips of cotton and gauze dangling from the ripped holes in his shirt where the wings tore through. “It seems like Stiles is becoming more accepting of his powers.” He settled his gaze onto Derek. “Every time his charge is in danger, more of them seem to surface.”

 

Stiles perked up, grinning. “Cool, so I actually have powers?” 

 

Deaton nodded. “Of sorts. You don't have any control over them, though, and you may never get control.” Stiles sagged slightly as Deaton continued. “They only come out when needed, when you or your charge is near any threat, just like now.”

 

Stiles nodded, then looked over to Derek. “Are we done, then?” He looked over his hands, nose wrinkling. “I would like to get this cleaned off before it starts drying anymore.”

 

Derek glanced over to Deaton, who huffed and waved them off to the bathroom in the lobby. Inside, Stiles started washing the blood off, oddly quiet. Derek looked over the teen, watching how he shook slightly as he scrubbed at his arms. 

 

Stiles jumped as Derek curled his arms around him from behind, nuzzling into Stiles' neck as he spoke. “You alright?” When Stiles nodded Derek huffed out a laugh. “You're shaking, Stiles. Even if I wasn't a werewolf and could smell how upset you were, that sort of gives it away.” He pressed a kiss to Stiles shoulder, looking up, meeting Stiles' eyes through their reflections. “What's wrong?”

 

Stiles was quiet for a few more moments, his almost-frantic scrubbing calming down slightly. “I...” He started, then sighed. “I'm just not used to this, okay.” He shrugged. “I'm used to being the sidekick, the person that everyone drags along because... I don't know, for entertainment value and to talk the bad guys into the ground, I guess.” Derek pressed his lips tight, narrowing his eyes at Stiles to convey how much he wasn't agreeing with anything Stiles said. Stiles ignored him though, looking away. “Now I'm... I'm stronger, I'm useful. It's just weird.” He laughed lightly. “I always thought I was just a freak with wings and ADD. My superpowers were always annoying people and being impulsive.”

 

“You were always a hero to me...” Derek muttered, squeezing Stiles a little tighter. “You were never the sidekick.” He reached a hand up, forcing Stiles to look at him. “Even before you seemed to be anything more than human, you were saving me. You were more vulnerable than any of us, but you were always there, throwing yourself in front of the threats, protecting everyone who was more powerful than you.” He grinned when Stiles blushed slightly. “Even before I found out how physically strong you were, you were always useful, you made up for you weaknesses. There's not many people who can do as much as you could.”

 

“Okay, I get it, you-”

 

“No, you don't.” He reached forward to turn off the water, then turned Stiles around to face him. “You were, are, and never will be useless, Stiles. Even if you lost all your powers, you'd still be my hero.”

 

Stiles' blush darkened, his wings dipping low. He looked away, clearing his throat before he glared at Derek. “I hate you, you know.”

 

Derek leaned forward, pressing a soft kiss to Stiles' lips, grinning through it when Stiles deepened it. Minutes later, when they parted, Derek leaned his head against Stiles', laughing breathlessly. “Love you, too, Stiles.”

 

Stiles sighed, like it pained him to say it, but his heart beat and the smile spreading his lips contradicted his tone. “Love you, too, Sourwolf.”


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know everything's a bit confusing. I'll try and explain it all soon. :)

Scott walked through the woods, a body bag with the corpse of the alpha girl inside it on his shoulder, with the sneaking feeling like he was being watched.

 

“ _Dude_.” Scott looked back to Isaac, who was trailing after him. “Stop _staring_ at me.”

 

Isaac blinked once, then rolled his eyes and jogged closer to Scott. “I'm being cautious. She's gotten back up from the dead once already. What says she's not going to again?”

 

“Um, Deaton and Stiles do?”

 

Isaac rolled his eyes again, and really, Scott didn't think that was necessary. “Yeah, well, I don't trust our track record that she'll stay dead.” He lifted the bag off of Scott's shoulder and dropped it to the side, then handed Scott one of the shovels he was carrying with him. “This should be good here, let's just get this done so we can get back to the house.”

 

Scott just shrugged and started digging. He still kinda had that feeling that he was being watched but... he didn't think anything of it now. Figured it was just nerves about what was going on around them and, as Isaac said, the possibility of the alpha getting back up again.

 

It took them about an hour to finally finish hiding the body. It was dark by the time they were finally heading back. The sound of the two shifting and running through the woods back to the Hale house died off, and golden eyes shone high above the small clearing they'd chose to get rid of the body, flickering over the area of freshly dug dirt, before the person they belonged to shifted, branches cracking underneath them, and they were taking off, pushing off the tree and into the sky, soaring through the air with a whistling sound, white feathers falling after them along with the broken branches that collapsed to the ground.

 

 

“I just have a bad feeling about this...” Derek frowned as he cleaned Stiles' wings. The couple was squeezed together on the couch in the living room at the Stilinski house – the Sheriff was going to be out on patrol for another hour or so atleast – Stiles with his head held down, his fingers tracing shapes around Derek's ankles, his wings stretched out around the alpha. Derek had his legs tucked around Stiles' waist, and a scrub brush in one hand while he smoothed down feathers with the other, occasionally he leaned down over the side of the couch to dip the brush in the soap water beside them. There was blood on them from what happened at the vet's office, and Stiles was still a little shaken by what happened. “I don't understand how she could've just... come back like that.” He frowned. “And why that mark on her chest reacted how it did.”

 

Stiles shrugged, his wings bobbing slightly. “I don't know.” He huffed out a laugh. “I'm new to all of this. From what Deaton said it's connected to one of... someone like me. That they're working for the alpha's.”

 

Derek could feel how tense Stiles got at the mention of the other possible angel. He hummed, nuzzling into the patch of skin between Stiles' wings, licking a line along his spine and grinning when he felt all that tension bleed out with the shudder that racked Stiles' body. Derek dropped the brush into the water, satisfied that Stiles' wings were as clean as could be and scooted closer, tucking himself around his angel. “Well, at least we know a way to keep them down, now. That symbol seemed to give them power.” He frowned. “It seemed to take away her control, though. Not that she had much in the first place but...”

 

Stiles shook his head, untangling himself from Derek's arms before he stood up. “I need to see if I can find something about this. Maybe the bestiary has something I missed...” He glanced over to Derek, who was sitting on the couch, looking a little bit like a lost puppy. Stiles had to repress a smile, in a way it was so weird to think that this man who was sitting there in front of him, who had just burrowed his way into Stiles was the same one who used to slam him into walls and smash his head into steering wheels. “If you don't mind too much you could help me.”

 

Derek shot up immediately, following after Stiles down the hall close enough to rest a gentle hand at the base of his back as they walked. Stiles bit into his lips to suppress a smile and curled a wing around Derek in return, feeling the alpha practically melt at the touch. He was still amazed how much he affected Derek, and he would probably never stop being amazed. The part of him that wasn't totally and completely overwhelmed by their bond, and that didn't think about or even care how improbable the fact that he, scrawny, plain looking Stiles aside from certain attributes, and Derek, who looked like he'd just strutted out of Stiles' wildest wet dreams, were together. That small, self-conscious part of him was in complete awe of how he'd bagged Derek Hale, of all people. The rest of him was just... content. Happy like he hadn't felt in a long, long time...

 

“You okay?” Derek's voice knocked Stiles' out of his own head, and he looked up at Derek, smiled as he reached out and smoothed out the worry lines creasing Derek's brows.

 

“I'm fine.” He shrugged. “Tired, I guess.” He pulled Derek the rest of the way into his room and flopped into his computer chair. Derek settled on the bed, still watching Stiles worriedly, but a little less so, so Stiles was going to take it as a win.

 

He searched his desk for a bit, looking through the mess of papers and notes scattered over it, then grinned when he pulled out what he was looking for. “Here, look through this.” He handed Derek the little book of notes that Derek had talked to him about before. Derek gave it to him a few days later, deciding it would be in better use in Stiles' hands than just sitting around in the ashy remains of the Hale house, and Stiles had read through most of it in one night. It was written more like a journal that a collection of notes and observations, but there could still be something useful in it that Stiles missed. “See if you can find anything about those markings. Or how this other angel reacted around the pack.” He shrugged. “It may not be exactly the same in this case; we won't have any idea how the one we're dealing with now feels about the alpha pack, whether it's helping them because they're forcing it or what.”

 

When Derek nodded and cracked open the book, Stiles spun back around in his chair, clicking around on his computer until he had google brought up and the bestiary with the few notes Allison had stolen from her father's bestiary while he was gone. Stiles stretched out, knowing that once he started he probably wasn't going to be getting the chance to get back up again for a while. He tilted his head back to see Derek stretched out on the bed, his hazel eyes flicking up to Stiles for a moment, a smile curling his lips for a second before he returned his attention – or most of it – back to the journal. Stiles grinned and turned back to the computer, stretched his fingers and buckled down for a long night of research.

 

 

Hours later found Derek sprawled even further across Stiles' bed, trying to focus mostly on the words in front of him, but distracted by Stiles' scent on the sheets, and the way his scent was starting to mix with the teens. It was subtle, just a small amount of Derek's scent coating some parts of Stiles' room, but it was enough to have Derek's wolf happy and panting under his skin, wanting to just toss the book away and roll around in Stiles sheets to spread even more of his scent around.

 

Derek restrained himself, barely, but he did. So what if he was occasionally rubbing up against the bed as he moved, he was just getting comfortable. That was it. Derek was behaving himself.

 

Okay, so maybe he wasn't so much. Derek shifted in the bed again, wiggling his head against Stiles' pillow and rubbing the rest of his body against the rest of the bed. Derek lifted his head up from the book, making the pillow drop off the side of the bed, Derek's almost constant moving shifting it and his sheets all over the place. Stiles was still perched in his computer chair, almost exactly how he'd been the three hours before when they'd started. As far as Derek could tell, Stiles was completely focused on his work. Derek smiled, proud of his mate, but... then again, almost everything Stiles did made Derek swell with some kind of positive emotion; be it pride, or happiness, or love, or... well...

 

“Mmph.” Derek jumped when Stiles groaned and focused back on his mate, who was stretching out in front of the computer, his eyes pinching shut and wings shuddering behind him. Derek licked his lips, that other... positive feeling making a _certain_ part of him swell as he watched. He scooted a little bit on the bed until he could reach the fallen pillow and firmly pressed it over the bulge forming in his jeans.

 

Stiles turned around then, looking tired. He huffed. “I don't think I can read any more, everything's starting to blur together.” He blinked once, then noticed where his pillow was and flushed, making Derek shift just a little more. He really wanted to lick that at that mark of red coloring his throat, and where he knew it colored Stiles pale skin even further under his shirt. Stiles didn't comment on it though, he just stood up and walked over to Derek, pulling the book that he'd stopped paying attention to a long time ago out of his hands and setting it aside on the nightstand. “We should go out to eat or something, take a break.”

 

Derek nodded, twisting around out of his awkward position – his legs twisted to the side, feet at the head board, his torso twisted around toward the foot of the bed and head nearly hanging off the edge – and brushing himself off, ignoring Stiles laughter when he took in the messy state of his bed and grabbed Stiles' hand, lacing their fingers together. Stiles' laughter cut off almost immediately, and he squeezed Derek's fingers, following him downstairs for them to figure out what they wanted to do.

 

Eventually, they just decided to order in. Stiles started scrolling through the TV guide, deciding on some cartoon that Derek barely paid attention to while they waited. Just after the delivery boy left – who Derek, again, didn't pay attention to more than giving him the money for their order and his tip – Derek's phone buzzed in his pocket. He set the bags of food on the coffee table and pulled his phone out while Stiles reached out, digging into his noodles like he was the ravenous werewolf and not Derek.

 

He pulled up the message from Isaac, saying they'd finished disposing of the girl and all was well and they'd gotten back to the Hale house safe and sound. Derek felt himself relax, let out a relieved breath and put his phone away, grabbing his food as he leaned into Stiles. Derek smiled slightly, as Stiles, without looking away from the screen or the food, unfolded a wing, and tucked it around Derek like a blanket. The alpha hummed contentedly, pressing a kiss to his mate's neck, feeling the skin beneath his lips heat slightly, and settled in to just watch mindless TV with his mate – or... more accurately, watch his _mate_ as he watched the mindless TV.

 

Hours later, well into the night, Sheriff Stilinski was just walking back into his home. He turned and locked the door, taking off his holster and starting to unbutton his uniform shirt when a quiet snore made him jump. He peered into the living room, then smiled softly. There, his son and Hale were curled up together on the couch, leaning into each other as they slept. He shook his head fondly at the two, then walked upstairs to his own room. He'd leave them alone for now. He'd save the teasing for the morning.

 

He chuckled to himself, setting his belt and gun on his dresser and looking up to the picture on his dresser, of Eva and Stiles, when he was much, much younger. His little hands were tugging on her long, brown hair, his face tilted up to watch his mom, eyes wide and mouth open in a smile, and her face was scrunched up in laughter, her brown eyes almost seeming to glow in happiness. The sheriff's smile turned a little sad, his throat closing a little bit as he reach up to stroke his thumb over the image of his late wife and his son.

 

“ _Aren't you proud of our little boy, Eva?_ ” He wanted to say. “ _He's happy, he's found someone that seems to care so much for him. He's doing so well, isn't he?_ ” He sighed, wiped his eyes, and moved away, getting ready for sleep after his short talk with his wife.

 


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stilinski family moments and Derek, too; Stiles and Derek continue researching and decide to talk to Deaton more about what he knows.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This week was a crazy, insane, emotionally-taxing week, it might show through this chapter a little bit, especially near the end. Just, warning ahead of time the writing in this one is a little clunky. :/
> 
> Also, can you say "filler"? (I'm sorry! D:)

Stiles slowly blinked awake, wincing as a stream of light chose that exact moment to spill through the window and fall right into his eyes. He shifted a little, huffing and rotating his arm that was pressed into Derek's side all through the night. He couldn't even remember when they fell asleep...

 

“Finally awake?”

 

Stiles jumped, startling Derek awake with a flailing arm. The alpha grunted and twisted around on the couch, grumbling about something Stiles couldn't hear, because there was his dad in the doorway, smirking at them, a cup of coffee in his hand. “Uh...”

 

“You two are sweet, I don't think I've ever seen anything that adorable in my life.” The sheriff grinned and shifted his mug to one hand, and tugged a camera out of his back pocket, waving it around. “I made sure to take a lot of pictures for you.”

 

“Daaad.” Stiles groaned. “I hate you...”

 

John chuckled and shrugged, walking back into the kitchen. “Well, if you hate me then I guess you don't want any of the coffee I brought you.”

 

“Oh god, I love you.” Derek mumbled as he got off the couch, not seeming even a little ashamed as the sheriff burst out laughing.

 

Stiles shook his head and stood up, stretching as he did, and followed after Derek, who was throwing back black coffee like water. Stiles snorted and looked up to his dad. “When did you get back last night?”

 

The sheriff managed to finally compose himself and shrugged. “Late.” At Stiles worried look he explained. “It was just a robbery, no guns involve. The property damage was the reason I was in so long.” He looked over to Derek, who looked a lot more awake and aware, was watching the two of them carefully with a little bit of a sad expression, then turned back to his son. “I'm gonna have to head in again pretty soon. You two behave, alright?” He teased, before he leaned down to hug his son, then crossed over to Derek, giving him a short hug, too, before he was rushing out of the room.

 

Derek looked a little confused, but pleased, his lips curled up just a little as he took slower, smaller sips from his mug. Stiles grinned, glad that his dad seemed to be more accepting of Derek, then he stretched again, tucking his wings in behind his back before he leaned back against the wall of the kitchen. “I'm going to do some more research today, if you want to help.” He paused for a moment. “I was actually thinking of maybe going to Deaton. He seems to know a lot about what I am.” And, he also seemed to know what Stiles was before anyone else. If the way he was completely unfazed by the giant black wings he was sporting when Stiles walked into his office with Derek those few weeks ago was any indication.

 

Derek nodded. “That's a good idea actually.” He tipped the mug back, swallowing down the rest of the coffee inside, and stood, stretching as he did. “We'll go to him after it closes, call Scott to tell him to stay. We can pick up where we left off last night for now.”

 

Stiles followed Derek up the stairs to his room, and the two tucked back in to their research, Stiles sending a quick text to Scott before he settled into his computer chair and started reading.

 

 

“Hey.” Stiles perked up. “Derek, look at this.”

 

The werewolf closed the book, moving off the bed and crouching behind Stiles to look over his shoulder. “What is it?”

 

Stiles pointed to the symbol on the screen, similar to the mark on the alpha's chest. “It's what Deaton was talking about, without all the additions tailored for the alphas. It's a mark of power.” He read the excerpt under the image out loud. “The mark is one that can do many things. It can be changed for whatever the maker wants, as long as it holds most of the original lines and intentions. It's usually applied with the makers blood, mixed with a specific combination of herbs, and is then burned into the applicants skin. The mark, without any changes, will give it's wearer more strength, and endurance, and a tougher skin.”

 

He tilted his head up to Derek. “Think maybe we'd be able to do that for you and the pack?”

 

Derek shrugged. “Maybe.” He paused a moment then nodded to the printer. “We should ask Deaton about it first.” He leaned closer. “Does it say anything for wolves? It might not work for us, that might be why she lacked control.” His brow furrowed as Stiles turned back to the screen to read more. “And what made her come back from the dead. We don't know if the other alpha's have their marks in the same place, and we may not have time to find it before...” He trailed off when Stiles flinched, the angel nodding as he scrolled further down the page.

 

“Nothing on that, I'd guess it's something that this other angel added. As for wolves... I can't find anything on that.” He huffed, shifting around in his seat. “It mostly goes on about other magics. Protection spells and offensive magics but... the ways to use them don't make sense to me.”

 

Derek pulled back as Stiles started printing off the page. “Something else we can question him about, then.” He stepped back until his legs hit the bed and sat down, picking up the journal again. He hadn't found anything useful in it, it was mostly a log of that their old guardian did for the family. He huffed. _Not that it helped in the long run_ , Derek thought grumpily, a sour taste – somewhat like fire and ash – filled his mouth. He quickly shook himself out of his dark thoughts, noticing the muscles in Stiles back were tense, and brown-gold eyes were watching him carefully across the room. “Have you heard anything from Scott?”

 

Stiles frowned at the slight shake in Derek's voice as he spoke, but didn't comment on it. “No. I think he is at work now, though, so I could try calling him.” He turned his head back to the printer for a moment as it finished, flipping through the printed pages to make sure it got everything before he turned back and stood up. “I think I'll wait a bit, though.” He settled on the bed beside Derek. “They don't close for a few hours so we have time.”

 

The alpha nodded, feeling a little more relaxed already with his mate starting to curl around him. Stiles pulled the both of them down until they were both laying on the bed, shifting himself and motioning Derek around until they were facing each other. He tucked himself into Derek's chest, rubbing his face into the curve of the Alpha's throat, nipping lightly at the smooth skin there.

 

Derek swallowed, choking back a moan when Stiles followed the bob of his Adam's apple with his lips. The position should've made him feel vulnerable, made the alpha growl and thrash and reclaim control, but... he didn't. The wolf was content, whining under Stiles' touch, making Derek want to chase after it when Stiles shifted, pulling away just for a split second, and then making Derek want to moan and just sprawl out under the boy when he curled his long-fingered hands over the small of Derek's back and over his chest.

 

“It's okay.” Stiles muttered against his skin, pulling back just enough to look into Derek's eyes. The alpha whined, unable to choke it back this time, and Stiles just gave him a soft, gentle smile. It was weird, ever since Derek had found out about Stiles, he'd never really seen how he fit as an angel. He was always too mischievous, or excitable and, well, human-like. He babbled and laughed and he flailed, but... here, smiling at Derek, reaching his hand up from Derek's back to comb through his hair, he fit, like he'd just dropped down from the sky just to love one little broken creature...

 

Derek sucked in a deep breath, blinking away the sudden burn in his eyes and trying to swallow away the sudden tightness in his throat and pulled Stiles back down. Soft feathers folded around him, pulling him a little closer to his mate. Stiles tucked his head back under Derek's chin. The angel told him again, “It's okay. You're okay.” and “I'm here. I'll always be here.”

 

_It will be._ Derek thought, feeling something come loose in his chest as he squeezed Stiles as close as he physically could. _I might be... if you stay._


	19. Don't Let Them See

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles goes to talk to Deaton alone and finds out something about his mom, but still leaves with more questions than answers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AH! I'm sorry I'm late! My muse just didn't want to cooperate and was being dumb. :(

It was dark when Scott finally texted back, giving them the all clear to come in. Stiles unraveled from Derek, the werewolf groaning and pouting a little – not that Stiles was going to comment on it. Stiles gathered up the pages from the printer, then paused a moment. I wonder...

 

“Would you mind going down and getting the jeep started?” Stiles grinned at Derek. “I just wanna get a jacket on real quick, it's a bit chilly.”

 

Derek raised an eyebrow at him, but didn't comment as he left. Stiles turned to his nightstand and pulled open the drawer, lifting it up slightly to pull it out of the track. He reached in to the very back of the opening, where the track was worn and the walls were slightly splintered from years of use, and pulled out the slip of paper hidden there.

 

It was old, the paper thin and creased as he unfolded it. The ink was still thick and dark, though. _Don't let them see. Don't let them know._

 

Stiles chewed on his lip as he read over the few words again, for the first time since his wings came in. He folded up the note and shoved it into his pocket; he had a feeling he'd be finding out about it soon.

 

 

When they walk in, Deaton's waiting for them, his hands clasped together on the counter, and his expression the usual calm, collected one he always seemed to wear. “I'll talk to you in the back, Stiles.” He said simply, then glanced to Derek. “You can wait here for us to finish.”

 

Derek opened his mouth to argue but Stiles cut him off, tugging off his jacket so he could stretch his wings a little as he walked back behind the counter. “It's okay, Derek.” He smiled at the alpha. “I'll be fine.”

 

Derek frowned, but didn't follow him, falling into one of the chairs in the waiting room with a little huff. Stiles turned back to the vet and followed after him down the hall, until they came into an empty operating room, furthest from the lobby. Deaton turned around once the door was shut and gave Stiles a nod to speak.

 

“Okay, so...” Stiles pulled out the folded print-outs of the mark. “What can you tell me about these?” He handed the pages to the vet and shifted on his heels as the man scanned over the pages. “Would I be able to use it for Derek and the pack?”

 

“It's not advised.” Deaton set the pages down on the operating table and looked over Stiles. “These type of spells work best for your charge. Using it on others isn't exactly safe, for you or the one you're using it on.”

 

Stiles nodded. “Is that why that alpha was like that?”

 

“Most likely.” He looked up at Stiles. “Do you want me to gather the herbs you need to do it?”

 

Stiles chewed on his lip lightly, then shook his head. “I'll talk to Derek about it first. Is there anyway for me to practice before? I don't want to risk messing it up.”

 

Deaton smiled at him. “Yes, I can help you. It's quite simple, actually. Just a matter of drawing the lines right.” He paused a moment, glancing over Stiles and his twitching wings. “I have the feeling that this wasn't the only thing you came to talk to me about.”

 

“Uh, yeah.” Stiles swallowed and reached out of his pocket, pulling out the note he'd dug out of his nightstand. “You didn't... have anything to do with this, did you?”

 

Deaton glanced over the words then back up to the angel, expression not changing as he nodded. “I did.” He passed the paper back across the table to Stiles. “I made a promise to help you. I was simply keeping that promise.”

 

Stiles swallowed. “Was it... my mom? Did she...” He trailed off, the sudden lump that formed in his throat making it hard for him to continue talking. Deaton nodded slowly, then handed back the print-outs with a small smile.

 

“There are other spells that could help. Most of them are for protection, or even healing. They only really work for you or your charge. I'll make a list for you and send them with Scott along with the herbs for them.” He paused a moment, regarding Stiles carefully, his gaze lingering for a moment on a spot of Stiles wing. There was a scar there, small but it seemed like nothing had grown back from it, no dark tufts of feathers, and the skin was an angry red. Where he was injured when he was saving Derek... “You should be careful in the meantime, Genim.” Stiles spun back around to Deaton, gaping at him. Deaton gave him a small, knowing smile. “You're not invincible. You don't need to protect everyone around you.”

 

Stiles nodded, then gathered up all of his things and left, an uneasy feeling in his chest at Deaton's words. It almost felt like there was something he was missing but... he didn't know what it could be. He reached a hand up, rubbing lightly at the scar on his wing, walking blindly down the hallway. Somehow, coming to Deaton for answers just seemed to bring up more questions... Though... given all the other times we've tried, I shouldn't be surprised by that...

 

“Stiles?” The teen looked up and smiled when he saw Derek. The alpha had abandoned his seat and looked like he was busy wearing a hole in the tile floor with his pacing while Stiles was gone. “You find out anything?”

 

Stiles nodded. “Yeah, he's going to give me a list of spells that I can use. And, if you're willing, the herbs for that protection spell.” He shrugged. “You're the only one I can use it on, though.”

 

“That's fine.” Derek glanced over to where Stiles was rubbing at his wing then jumped up, rushing over to him. “Are you okay? Does it hurt?”

 

Stiles huffed and batted him away. “No, it's fine. I'm fine.” He dropped his hand, tucking all of his notes and papers into his pocket before he tucked his wings in, pulling on his coat. “Could we go home? I can tell you everything he said when we get back.”

 

Derek nodded, rushing to get the door for Stiles and not even looking the slightest bit embarrassed when Stiles snorted at him. Derek just gave him a little pleased smile and followed him outside.

 

The ride home was quiet, but the silence was comforting. Derek kept his hand on Stiles' thigh the entire way back to the Stilinski home, his thumb brushing over the rough material of his jeans in soothing circles. Stiles chewed on his lip as he drove; he wondered how Deaton knew his mom. And why he needed the help, if... maybe she knew she was...

 

He shook his head and let out a breath, pulling the jeep into the driveway and setting it into park. He glanced over to Derek when they didn't immediately get out of the car.

 

The alpha frowned at him. “You smell like hurt...” He leaned in, nuzzling into Stiles' shoulder. “What is it?” He mumbled, lips tickling against Stiles throat.

 

Stiles swallowed and shrugged, popping open his door. “It's nothing. Just thinking.”

 

Derek hummed and reached over to pull the door shut. He licked lightly at Stiles' neck, whining. Stiles sighed and combed his fingers through Derek's hair. “I'm just thinking about something Deaton said... about my mom.”

 

The alpha pulled away a little, looking over Stiles with eyes just slightly rimmed in red, then leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to his mate's lips. Stiles licked his lips when they broke apart, tasting Derek on them, then opened the door again. “C'mon. Let's get inside before it gets too late.”

 

Derek hesitated, but eventually he complied, hopping out of the other side of the jeep. The walk up to the house should've really only taken a few minutes, if that, but it felt like an eternity. When they finally got inside, Derek was pulling off his jacket, allowing Stiles to stretch his wings out. He draped Stiles jacket on the stair railing, then pulled his off and tossed it over the railing as well. When he was done, he turned back to Stiles and raised his brows.

 

Stiles nodded his head over to the couch in the living room and walked in, hearing Derek following after him. His dad shouldn't be getting back for a while, so they'd have the time to talk without him overhearing them.

 

Once they were both comfortable, sprawled out on the couch with Stiles cradled in Derek's arms, the alpha combing his fingers gently through the younger man's hair, their legs tangled together in front of them, Stiles finally spoke. “He said that the spell is supposed to only work with my charge, using it on anyone else isn't safe. Said that was probably why the alpha was the way she was, the spell was unstable.” Derek hummed, tracing patterns through Stiles hair. The angel relaxed a little, closing his eyes and just letting Derek continue working away at his nerves. “I'm going to be practicing with him on how to do it, just so when I do it for real I don't mess up.”

 

He felt Derek nod, pausing the soothing tangle of his fingers in Stiles hair like he was waiting for something more. Stiles sighed then, playing with the hem of his shirt as he spoke, quiet in the equally quiet room. “He talked about my mom, too. I guess he knew her before...” He trailed off, then cleared his throat and moved on. “He'd made a promise to her, apparently, to keep me safe. He was the one who helped me hide them when they first came in, I think.”

 

Derek's fingers twitched against his scalp, then continued their slow roll and twists through his hair. “He didn't say anything else?”

 

“No.” He sighed, blinking away the wetness in his eyes and then turning in Derek's arms so his face was tucked into the curve of Derek's throat, so he could feel the werewolf's thumping pulse against his lips. “I had this feeling something was missing from everything he was saying but... I don't know.” He shrugged. “He always seems to leave little tidbits of info out whenever we go to him for something, could just be that I'm used to something missing.”

 

Derek growled softly, but didn't say anything. Instead he shifted a little underneath Stiles, moving so they were both laying down on the couch, and then he traced his hands down the center of Stiles back, and back up. He paused at Stiles wings, tracing through the soft down there and across the sensitive bundle of nerves where wing connected to skin.

 

Stiles sighed and closed his eyes, pushing everything else to the back of his mind except for the feeling of Derek's hands on him. There wasn't much he could do right now. Everything else could wait until the morning...


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles starts his spell practice with Deaton, and gets the feeling of being watched as he leaves.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \o/ I'm on time this time! :D The next chapter may or may not be kinda sorta naughty. You'll have to come back to find out. :P

Stiles... still really hated needles...

 

He stared at the gun in Deaton's hand. It was smaller than most tattoo guns were, more like a thick pen with a cord attached. He frowned as Deaton handed it to him, then again when Deaton turned him to the dummy on the table.

 

“So...” Stiles started as he brought his shaky hand to the doll and rubbed his thumb over the little switch on the side that would turn it on. “Angels use tattoo guns, huh?”

 

Deaton chuckled. “This is easier. Usually these marks are time-consuming, having to be made out by hand with just a silver needle and the ink. This is quicker, and much cleaner.”

 

Stiles grimaced as he clicked on the device, feeling it vibrate in his hand. He let out a breath and glanced down to the image Deaton wanted him to trace, a simple circle with a crescent moon tucked inside, the moon stylized with long, smooth lines inside of it, curving slightly with it, like a wing cradling the moon. Slowly, he pressed the pen down, watching as the needle slowly made a sloppy circle as he drew. His hand was shaking too much, but he felt better knowing that the needle wasn't piercing real skin, not being able to see blood welling up under the ink.

 

He pulled away after a moment, looking between the picture on the mark he'd left on the dummy. He... had the basic shape down, at least?

 

Deaton clapped a hand on his shoulder, making Stiles jump so much his thumb clicked off the gun and his wings nearly knocked the man's hand off in their rush to fan up. The vet chuckled softly. “It'll take some time to get used to. In the meantime, you can practice it just on pen and paper at home. I'll give you more modifications to it as you go on, whatever you wish to add to it.”

 

Stiles nodded, wings slowly lowering, then turned back to the dummy. He glanced back to the image, then turned the dummy a little so he had a clean part to work with. He flicked his thumb over the switch again until the pen was buzzing in his hand, then moved slowly over it, bracing his arm with his other hand to try to keep the shaking down. The finished product was a little better, but when the lines had to be precise, better wasn't going to cut it.

 

Stiles chewed on his lip and turned back to Deaton. “What happens if I don't get it precise?”

 

“The spell doesn't work.” Deaton looked over his work as he spoke. “But, with this kind of spell, it has to be done in a specific area, right over the heart. There's no do-overs if you don't get it exactly right the first time. There aren't exactly any ill effects if the lines aren't perfect, that I know of anyway, but it's still important to get it right, since you only get one chance.”

 

Stiles nodded, turning the doll again and trying to trace the image into the fake skin again. “What about... what it said I do after I finish inking it in? About burning it in?”

 

Deaton gave a small chuckle. “That's something I'll teach you after you perfect this. It's simple enough to do.”

 

Stiles nodded, pausing to check and see how his lines were before he thickened them. It was near perfect, just a little bit oblong but the details were right. He'd think making the circle perfect was something he could fix on his own. As he fixed up the lines on it to the right thickness, he thought about what else he'd add to it. Obviously protection, Derek definitely needed that. He had a good amount of control, but maybe he could add something that would make his control even better, sharper. He'd have to see everything he could do, and then talk it over with Derek. For now, he had to focus on getting the basic mark right.

 

Stiles pulled back and set the pen down, looking back at Deaton. “Better?”

 

“Much.” He turned around, gathering up a few papers, then handed them to Stiles. “Here are some of the other marks you can do from this base. You just need to figure out what you want and them how to tie the together smoothly. Once you get it perfected and figure out what you want I can gather the ink ingredients and instruct you on how to put it together.”

 

“Okay.” Stiles glanced over the pages, grabbing up the basic image and grinned up at the vet. “Thanks.”

 

Deaton nodded. “If you have any more questions or anything you need help with just come to me.”

 

Stiles gave the vet a small smile and set aside the gun, looking over the room to make sure he hadn't left anything and pulling his jacket off the chair near the door. He pulled it on as he left the room, tucking his wings in under it. He'd come by himself this time, no Derek waiting outside for him. The alpha had to catch up with training his betas, and he'd also mentioned about setting up something special to surprise Stiles when he got back.

 

Stiles grinned to himself, pushing the front door open and walking out, not really paying attention to his surroundings as he walked back to his jeep. He wondered what exactly Derek was planning, he figured it couldn't be something sexy, considering how adamant Derek was about waiting until Stiles was eighteen. Stiles rolled his eyes, but he still had a fond smile on his face. If there was anything that was any good about waiting, it was how much he anticipated when that day would finally come.

 

The teen pulled his keys out of his pocket, getting ready to unlock the door when he felt something... off. He raised his head up and looked around, the parking lot was seemingly empty, along with the rest of the street. It wasn't late enough for the streets to be completely deserted like this, sure Beacon Hills wasn't exactly the most exciting place, but there were enough people that went out at night for there to be at least someone on the road.

 

Stiles unlocked the door, checking the back seat and all around inside the jeep before he opened the door and hopped in. He started it up, taking another look over the area, and still finding nothing. If it was any of the alphas around, he'd figured they would've tried attacking him already, same with the hunters. He wasn't exactly sure what he was looking for, what would be just watching him and not doing anything. Taking a deep breath, Stiles shook off the uneasy feeling, but kept alert as he started driving out of the parking lot.

 

He still had that feeling that someone, or something, was watching him, but he never saw anything. There were no road blocks, or massive accidents the way he drove, either. Maybe, he was just paranoid. It'd been too long since something happened, maybe he was just _waiting_ for something to go wrong.

 

Stiles swallowed down the lump in his throat, relaxing a little when there started to be more traffic on the streets. He really hoped he was just imagining things, because if there was something else out there wanting to get him... He inhaled deeply, letting his chest expand, then breathed out through his nose. They would try to be prepared, it there was anything. Just... hopefully it would wait until they dealt with the alphas and/or the hunters first.

 

Not that Stiles thought he could be that lucky, just hopefully life could throw him a bone just this once.

 

 

The rest of the way to the Hale house was pretty uneventful, no weird feelings of being watched or red eyes glaring at him from out of the tree line. Stiles still took a moment to check around before he got out of the jeep, and then he was instantly shoved back into it by about two-hundred pounds of werewolf muscle jumping at him.

 

“Are you okay? I had this weird feeling, did anything happen to you?” Derek rumbled, his hands searching wildly over Stiles, shoving the jacket off and even checking over his wings.

 

Stiles shuddered at the feeling of Derek's hand smoothing over his wings, his fingers digging gently through feathers. He wasn't sure he could ever get used to that amazing feeling that burned through him whenever Derek touched them. He gently pushed the alpha away, grinning up at him. “Perfectly fine. No arrows flying out of nowhere, or raging alphas chasing me, and I even managed to not kill myself with giant needles at Deaton's.” He held his hands out and fanned out his wings to show Derek. “Not a scratch.”

 

The alpha relaxed a little, his worried frown smoothing out. He turned to where Scott and Isaac were waiting in the clearing out front of the house, Scott with this expression a little bit like he'd just watched his brother making out with someone, and Isaac with a fond, happy little smile on his face. Derek rolled his eyes at them and nodded over to the house, growling when they didn't immediately start moving.

 

Stiles rolled his eyes at Derek, pushing his fingers into the alphas hair and turning him back to face him. “So, Mister Big, Strong Alpha, I heard something about a special surprise for me?”

 

Derek's little frown at the betas immediately turned into a big, happy grin. “Yes, I remember something like that.” He leaned down, brushing his lips against Stiles ear as he whispered. “Gonna have to wait for the two of us to be alone, first.”

 

Stiles heart jumped in his chest and he grinned. Derek pulled away a little, just enough to lean a little further down so he could press their lips together. The two stayed like that for a while, just lazily kissing with Stiles pressing further and further into the jeep, until Derek had to put a hand up against it and wrap the other one around Stiles waist to keep them both up. Derek's thumb brushed lightly against the arch of Stiles wing, making him gasp and arch up into him. The alpha took advantage of the moment to push Stiles flush into the jeep and take full control of the kiss, turning it from the slow, gentle press of lips it was to something a little dirtier.

 

“Oh my _god_ , you guys, stop it!” Scott's voice broke them apart, the two of them licking their lips to chase the taste on one another and looking to the Hale house to see Scott leaning out the door, and Isaac behind him with a hand over his mouth to try and stifle his laughter. “You can make out some other time. Get inside, now!”

 

Stiles huffed and looked up at Derek, who didn't even look the slightest bit embarrassed or guilty. In fact, the alpha was wearing a big, proud grin, his lips just slightly reddened from Stiles'. Oh... that was... _nice_. Stiles leaned forward to try and capture Derek's mouth again when Scott yelled at them again. “Hey! _No!_ Stop it!”

 

They both sighed and turned to Scott. “Okay, _dad_ , we're coming!” Stiles yelled. He turned back to Derek, then before Scott had time to start up again he dove in for a quick kiss. He could hear Scott giving an exasperated huff and the door shutting as he felt Derek's lips curling up under his.

 

“We _should_ probably get inside.” Derek muttered once they broke apart.

 

Stiles sighed and nodded. “Fine.” He pouted, wanting to just spend the rest of the night until Scott and Isaac left kissing Derek. Kissing Derek was always a good thing, it made him forget all of the bad things that seemed to just constantly follow them around.

 

Derek paused a moment, then smirked and, before Stiles could protest, tugged Stiles up against him, his hands under Stiles thighs and forcing the teen to wrap his legs and arms around Derek. Derek pressed their mouths together before Stiles could complain about not having to be carried around by the big strong alpha. Stiles melted against the wolf, closing his eyes and letting Derek kiss him. He was okay with the carrying now. Perfectly fine with it. He wrapped his wings around the both of them and licked into Derek's mouth, shivering at the feel of Derek's chest rumbling with a growl, and then shuddering as the alpha dominated the kiss, practically attacking Stiles mouth with little licks and nips of teeth.

 

Stiles didn't listen to anything else as they entered the house, not even hearing Scott's whine of frustration and Isaac embarrassed laughter. Just Derek's heavy breaths and his own heart beat that was thudding heavy in his ears, matching Derek's that if he just pressed a little harder, and really concentrated, he could feel in the werewolf's lips.

 

Meanwhile, outside the house, golden eyes blinked slowly in one of the trees high above the clearing. The creature that possessed those large, wide golden eyes didn't move much other than to tilt it's head a little further down to look over the jeep that Stiles and Derek were just pressed against for a good fifteen or so minutes. It sat there for a while, just blinking slowly, looking between the jeep and the house as if it had lost something and wasn't quite sure where it had gone. With a soft sigh, it shifted on the branch it was perched on, and flew up into the sky, darting off in a quick flash of white and gold against the dark night sky.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also, I have a tumblr now! :D I mostly reblog stupid stuff and TW stuff. Buuuut I'm gonna start saying when I update fics so if you want to keep up on that (or like stupid stuff) here's my [page](http://rarajoeyanna.tumblr.com/).


	21. Chapter 21

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Derek give Stiles his promised surprise. Stiles has nightmares of something stalking him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is up a little earlier than usual since I'm not going to get much time to post it tomorrow. :/

Derek laid Stiles out across the bed, the sound of Isaac and Scott's heartbeats long gone down the road. Stiles dark wings were stretched out fully, his chest bare, already marked from Derek's stubble, red and sensitive from the teen's throat to where his jeans were still on, with the fly spread open.

 

“So...” Stiles breathed out, chest heaving, pupils swollen wide and flushed red all the way down halfway to his chest. He grinned when alpha red eyes flickered up at him from where Derek was mouthing at the pale, soft expanse of his belly. “What's my surprise?”

 

Derek hummed, licking up Stiles stomach to his throat, sucking lightly at the sensitive skin, then leaned over to the nightstand. Stiles heart picked up speed, and he could hear the teen breathing heavier. Derek grinned.

 

He pulled it out, but before Stiles could see he hid it behind his back. Stiles frowned at him, but that went away pretty quickly when Derek leaned back down to nuzzle into Stiles neck, licking and sucking at him. Derek shifted forward a little until his lips were brushing against Stiles ear. “We're still not going to have sex, yet.” He felt Stiles sag under him, groaning with frustration, then he pulled out the toy.

 

Stiles blinked, mouth dropping open slightly as he stared at it, then back to Derek. “Really?” Stiles said eventually, laughing a little bit, but his flush deepened, heart beat picking up just a little more. Derek grinned and nodded, setting the vibrator on Stiles chest and rolling the remote in his hand.

 

“I figure it's something we can get some use out of.” He nipped at Stiles jaw. “Now and after your birthday.” He dropped down a little, taking the toy back in his hands and flicking on the side on the side of the remote so I vibrated to life, before he tossed the remote to the side. He grinned when he saw Stiles swallow heavily, then dropped his eyes back down to his hands. He slowly dragged the vibe down Stiles' stomach, watching the angel twitch underneath the touch, wings fluttering against the bed. Then he drew a wide circle around the obvious bulge in the boys jeans. “I can't do much with you right now...” He smirked as he paused in the middle of the second circle, catching the toy between Stiles thighs and slowly inching it up between his legs. “I do plan to tease you all night long, though.”

 

Stiles shuddered at Derek's arousal-thickened voice, then again when the alpha shifted the toy so it just grazed the teens erection. He immediately moved away from it, though, dragged it back up a few inches before he pulled it away, lifting up from Stiles body and grinning as Stiles panted beneath him. “Flip over.” He ordered, and Stiles eagerly obeyed, rolling over between Derek's legs onto his stomach, spreading his wings out and tucking his head into his arms.

 

Derek inhaled softly, taking in the view of Stiles pliant underneath him, skin flushed between black feathers and back rising and falling with his breaths. He took a moment to enjoy it, memorize every curve of muscle beneath the mole-spotted skin, then let out a breath and leaned down over Stiles, moving the still vibrating toy up along his spine. Stiles shuddered hard, gasping softly, twisting his head around so he was burying his red-flushed face into his arms.

 

Stiles' hands gripped the sheets below him tightly, arching up as Derek trailed the vibrations up between his wings, lips falling open on a moan. “ _Oh my god_.” Derek breathed, shifting it over just enough so it was pressing up where wing met skin. A cry punched out of the boy beneath him and Stiles gave one hard twitch that almost threw Derek off of him, then Stiles' scent got stronger, heavier.

 

“F-f-fuuuh, D-D-Der- _ **Derek**_!” Stiles cried out, twitching constantly as the vibe stayed pressed right up against that sensitive spot of skin. Derek fumbled for a moment and quickly pulled it away, reached over to grab the remote and turn it off. Stiles slumped back into the bed, just falling boneless underneath him, wheezing, just barely moving with tiny little aftershocks after his orgasm, body practically vibrating.

 

Derek swallowed, feeling like he was on fire. He dropped the toy beside them, and smoothed a hand against the skin between his wings. Stiles whimpered, arching up to the touch. “They're so sensitive...” Derek traced a finger around the soft down at the base of the wings, Stiles trembling and letting out a whine that made Derek shudder.

 

“S-st-oh... St-t-st-stop. P-pluh-please, D-Der, uh, Derek.” Stiles nearly sobbed, and Derek looking up at the teens face again, catching the tracks of tears on his face, smelling the salt and feeling the way Stiles was vibrating underneath him. He pulled his hand back, Stiles letting out a wet breath and melting down onto the bed.

 

“Sorry.” Derek muttered, lifting up off of Stiles' body. Stiles whimpered, reaching a hand back and shaking his head.

 

“Not... don't... don't apologize.” He inhaled deeply, shaking out his wings. He tilted his head back to watch Derek, managing a small, tired smile. “Felt good.”

 

Derek nodded, turning so he fell on the bed beside Stiles, looking over the angel who was taking deep breaths, his heart slowly coming back down to a more normal rate. After a few minutes passed in silence, Stiles lifted up, tucking his still trembling wings behind him, and grinned at Derek. “So, is it my turn to use it on you?”

 

Derek swallowed as Stiles lifted up the toy, looking more like a devil than an angel as he smirked at the alpha. Derek shifted and laid down, spreading out and letting Stiles crawl over him. The vibe came alive in the boy's hand, and his teasing little smirk spread as Derek's eyes widened slightly.

 

The sound of the alpha moaning echoed in the home, followed by Stiles playful laughter. The two spent the next hour, or more, teasing each other and finding all the little spots that made the other arch and moan and loose all coherence.

 

 

“I did have another surprise for you...” Derek muttered softly, the two of them freshly showered, spread out across the stripped bed in sweats, the alpha tracing figures across Stiles stomach.

 

Stiles hummed, nuzzling into Derek's throat, inhaling deeply and making a pleased sound. It really shouldn't have turned Derek on as much as it did. He cleared his throat and lifted up, grinning down at Stiles as he blinked. “Do you wanna see it?” Derek asked, his smile softening as Stiles nodded sleepily. He stood up off the bed and nodded for Stiles to follow him. Stiles stumbled up, tucking his wings around himself and padding after the alpha. The wolf walked out of the bedroom, then down stairs, and further down into the dark basement.

 

“Where are you taking me, Derek?” Stiles asked, sounding a little more awake as he tried to look around the room. Derek made a shushing sound, his red eyes turning back to the boy, then there was a click, and the area flooded with light.

 

Stiles gasped softly at what he saw. He'd only been in the basement of the Hale house once, and it wasn't something he really wanted to remember considering that it was soon after Derek was tortured in it, the smell of burnt flesh lingering in the air still, strong enough for Stiles to smell. He'd tried to block it out, and mostly he succeeded, so he didn't remember much of what he saw there... but he did know it looked absolutely nothing like this.

 

It actually looked liveable, and well-lived in on top of that. There was a nice couch tucked against the wall, the red fabric looking soft and inviting, and the walls were restored, burnt brick and mortar repaired and cleaned, the floor covered with a soft carpet that Stiles dug his toes into as he looked around. It was plain, no decorations up or anything, but it was homey, nice. Stiles turned toward Derek, who was smiling softly at Stiles, blushing, his arms tucked behind him as he watched the boy take in the room. “When did you get the time to do this?” Stiles asked, because he knew the both of them were ridiculously busy the past few weeks, it wouldn't have given them that much extra time, as Stiles knew all too well from barely getting his assignments done for school, and lucking out on tests without the time to study.

 

Derek shrugged. “I found time.” He took the few steps towards Stiles to close the distance between them, leaning down to rub his face into Stiles' hair, bringing a hand up to cup the curve of Stiles' head. “What do you think?” He asked, sounding nervous.

 

Stiles swallowed and glanced around again. “It's nice.” He admitted. “But, why?” As far as he knew, Derek didn't have many plans to rebuild the house. The bathroom, yes, but he figured that was going to be the only thing that was going to be restored.

 

Derek flushed again, but he just smiled and shrugged. “I want to make this more of a home. I...” He paused, taking a breath and pulled back to look at Stiles. “When I'm done, and when you're ready, I want... I want you to stay here, with me.”

 

Stiles couldn't help it. As soon as Derek said it, he smiled, wide and bright up at his alpha. “Yeah.” He reached up to press a quick kiss to Derek's curling lips, tucking his face into Derek's neck. “Yeah, I'd... I'd like that.”

 

Derek growled happily, nuzzling into his mate, pulling him close. “Good.” Derek rumbled, closing his eyes and just feeling his mate breathing against him, feeling his mate's heart thumping against his chest. “Good.” He repeated, quieter, the two of them bundled together as Stiles curled his wings around their bodies.

 

“Good.” Stiles agreed, pressing a kiss to Derek's collarbone as Derek ducked down to bury his face into the soft feathers of his wings.

 

 

Stile woke up sometime in the middle of the night, curled around Derek on the couch in the basement, heart beating fast and hard, blood rushing in his ears and the fading panic of a nightmare clouding his mind. He couldn't remember what he dreamed about, what made him so panicked and had him choking back a scream, Derek just barely shifting and whimpering softly, not waking up yet but close to it.

 

Stiles looked around, everything looked normal, but... he had that feeling again, that feeling he had just the night before of being watched, not necessarily by something evil, or something out to kill him, but still something that made his stomach twist uneasily. He blinked once, slowly, his wings shifting behind him, hairs on the back of his neck standing up as he looked around again. There was no one there, other than Derek and himself. Not even Scott or Isaac or his dad.

 

He shook his head, he was just being paranoid, he guessed. He took a deep breath and fell back to the couch, curling around Derek. He closed his eyes, and the image of bright golden eyes flashed through his mind, just for a second, before he fell back asleep.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a tumblr now! :D I mostly reblog stupid stuff and TW stuff. Buuuut I'm gonna start saying when I update fics so if you want to keep up on that (or like stupid stuff) here's my [page](http://rarajoeyanna.tumblr.com/).


	22. Chapter 22

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles finally sees what's been stalking him for the past could weeks. Derek comes in just as Stiles collapses and brings him to Deaton to find out what was making him mate so panicked as he was.

Stiles was getting better with the marks, and the crossbow. He always seemed to be practicing both, so he was glad that he was getting good at them. He pulled away from his work, looking over the mark he'd traced down on the paper to find any mistakes he might've made. He grinned, finding nothing wrong with the mark. He had to test it out with the tattoo gun, but he was pretty sure he was good enough to ask Deaton for the herbs for the ink.

 

He looked over the pages that Deaton had given him a week ago, of all the different variations he could incorporate into Derek's mark. They'd decided for the spell to give him protection, strength, control, stronger senses and a higher tolerance for magics and harmful herbs. It wouldn't make him completely immune, the stronger spells would break through Stiles' spell, but mountain ash would have less of a power of him, and wolfsbane would be much less effective against him.

 

Stiles paused a moment, feeling the hairs on the back of his neck rise on end as he got that now familiar feeling of being watched again. He'd gotten that feeling at least twice everyday now since that first time. He frowned, glancing around his room, rising up to look out the window. There was no one there, just as he figured, just as it was every other time he looked. He always expected to see golden eyes staring at him out of the dark, like he'd dreamed of every night since that first time.

 

He didn't know what it meant, who would be watching him like this. Well, other than the obvious, the hunters or the alphas. But they wouldn't just... watch, like whatever this was did. He'd been vulnerable all the times he'd felt it, if it was someone like them who wanted to hurt him, well, they would've hurt him.

 

Stiles sighed and pulled out of the window, running a hand through his hair as he turned back to his desk. At least he could be thankful that it hadn't done anything to him yet.

 

Outside, on the roof of the Stilinski house, the creature with golden eyes that had been haunting the angel's dreams, tilted it's head, listening as the teen moved around in his room. It inched slowly closer to the window, peering down into the room, watching Stiles as he fell down into his chair and flipped to a new page in the sketch book, sketching the same mark he'd just finished, perfecting it. It reached out to the sill, a hand with too-long nails, coated in dirt and with mud caked under the jagged talons on it's long fingertips curled around the wooden window sill. Then it stopped, gasping softly when the Camaro parked outside the house, the alpha getting out and walking up to the front door. It fluttered it's wings, golden eyes widening as Stiles lifted his head up. It just caught Stiles turning toward it, his own eyes widening in surprise before it was up in the air, gone within the time Stiles was at the window, breathing heavily as he searched the sky.

 

 _It... it was there..._ Stiles gulped down a lungful of oxygen, trying to even out his breathing as he looked wildly around the backyard his window faced. _I saw it, that... whatever that had the gold eyes. It was here. I know I saw it!_

 

“Stiles?”

 

Stiles jumped, spinning around to find Derek staring at him, looking worried. “What?”

 

Derek furrowed his brow, frowning at the teen as he fidgetted. “You... you said you saw something. Something was here?” He inched forward and Stiles twitched back. Derek stopped, eyes wide as he stared at Stiles, and Stiles breathed heavily, panic rising heavily and thick in his throat, making it difficult to breathe.

 

“Stiles?” Derek called as Stiles' vision blurred. “ _Stiles!_ ” He called again, sounding more panicked as stars danced across Stiles' vision, feeling like he was falling and hearing nothing but blood rushing in his ears, just a flicker of gold in his vision before everything went black.

 

 

“ _Stiles!_ ” Derek yelled as Stiles collapsed. He thought for a moment he saw Stiles' eyes flicker gold, just like in Deaton's office when he'd killed the alpha, but it was too quick for him to tell. He rushed over to his mate, catching him before he knocked his head against the window.

 

As soon as he'd pulled up to the Stilinski home, he could tell something was wrong. There was a weird scent washing over the home, acrid and heavy, like sickness, and soon after he'd stepped into the house, his own heart pounding, the scent of Stiles' panic hit him like a tidal wave, and he'd heard the teen yelling as he rushed up the stairs.

 

“It... it was there.” Stiles whimpered, sounding lost, and tired like Derek had never heard him. “I saw it. It was here! _I know I saw it!_ ” Stiles cried, and when Derek got into the room, Stiles was standing by the window, eyes wide, entire body shaking as he searched the sky.

 

Derek frowned, gathering Stiles up into his arms and glancing out the window. There was nothing there, and now he'd noticed that the scent of sickness was mostly gone, not as thick in the air, but still here just a little. He shook his head; he could look for it later, now he needed to help Stiles. Maybe... take him to Deaton. He'd obviously seen something that made him like this, scared him this much. He searched over Stiles, looking for any kind of wounds, then lifted him up when he was satisfied Stiles wasn't hurt.

 

He carried Stiles out of the house, gently setting the teen into the passenger's seat of the Camaro and throwing himself into the driver's seat to speed off to Deaton's. He flipped his phone out as soon as he was well on his way and dialed Scott to tell him what had happened, that they were coming in. He hung up once he'd finally managed to get his point across to Scott, and convince the beta that his friend was alright. He gripped the wheel tight, enough for it to creak underneath his hands, and concentrated halfway on the road, and the other half on Stiles. The teen was going to be okay. They were going to figure out what had visited Stiles, what had made him that fearful. Derek growled, his eyes bleeding red and his claws piercing through the steering wheel. They were going to find it... and Derek was going to kill it.

 

Up in Stiles' room, the window sill creaked, the wood cracking just a little under a hand print of dirt and blood that stunk of sick. The wood turned rotten as the blood soaked in, curling in on itself slowly, paint peeling away and wood breaking down and chipping away.

 

 

Deaton looked up as soon as Derek walked in, carrying Stiles in his arms. Deaton looked them over, then nodded for Derek to follow. Derek drew in a deep breath, wincing; he could smell some of that sickness sticking to Stiles' skin. His hands tightened around the teen, wondering if this creature touched his mate. He swallowed down his growl, then laid Stiles out on the table when Deaton told him, keeping a hand on Stiles' shoulder even as Deaton gave him a pointed look about it.

 

Deaton sighed. “It seems he just suffered a panic attack.” Deaton looked up at Derek. “Did you see anything before he passed out, or hear anything?”

 

Derek shook his head. “No, I... I didn't see anything. Just... when I walked in Stiles seemed frantic. He was saying he saw something.” Derek paused, frowning. “I smelled something sick when I walked in, I can still smell it on him a little.”

 

Deaton nodded then, looking over Stiles, then back up to Derek. “Can you tell me where it is on him?”

 

Derek paused, reluctantly removing his hand from Stiles' shoulder to lean down over the teen. He sniffed out the scent to one of his hands, and when he lifted it up Stiles' skin looked red, almost like it was burned.

 

Deaton frowned, pulling on a pair of gloves before he took Stiles' hand. He was only able to hold Stiles hand for a few moments before he winced, dropping Stiles hand back down to the table, and pulling off the gloves, that were now burned through. Derek stared. “What is that? What's wrong?”

 

Deaton huffed. “I'm afraid Stiles has a cursed being after him.” He turned around and started digging through some drawers behind him. After a few moments, he came out with a bundle of herbs and vials of salves in his arms. He brought out a mortar and pestle and added in various herbs and dusts and a sticky, clear liquid into it, blending it together as he spoke. “It could be looking for him to help it. If it hasn't attacked him yet, or approached him, it shouldn't be seeking to harm him.”

 

Derek glowered at the light purple paste Deaton was blending, wrinkling his nose at the musky scent of it, that was thankfully overpowering the sick scent. “Then why is he like this? He's hurt. It obviously did something to him.”

 

The vet nodded slowly, cleaning off the pestle and pulling on another pair of gloves to rub the paste into Stiles hand. “Cursed beings are dangerous to angels, they taint them. The more the cursed creature stays around him, the more it will affect him.” He tilted Stiles hand around, checking for more of the reddened, burnt areas. “They can infiltrate the angel's mind, especially during sleep. The more time around them, it'll slowly cause him to be more and more paranoid, lose a bit more of his sanity when around it.” He gently set Stiles' hand down and looked up to Derek. “There's not much you can do to stop it, there's not much to do to kill something cursed like this. The best way to get it to leave Stiles' alone is for it to get Stiles to do what it wants.”

 

Derek huffed. “So I can't kill it?”

 

Deaton rolled his eyes, but nodded. “You can't bring any kind of physical harm to it, no.” He walked over to the sink, cleaning up the mortar and pestle and setting it aside. “It needs to be cured, and it won't have any reason to follow you around anymore.” He turned and nodded to Stiles hand. “Let the paste sit on the burn, it'll harden and chip off by itself. It's going to suck out the cursed substance from Stiles' system.”

 

Derek nodded, then looked up at the vet. “What should I do?”

 

“Just help Stiles.” Deaton looked over the boy. “The creature might not approach him with something else around. He may need some time alone for it to come to him. I might be able to make something to cloak your scent from it so you can watch Stiles to make sure it doesn't hurt him, but for now it doesn't seem lethal.” He looked back up to the alpha. “Stiles should wake up as soon as the paste does it work. Maybe an hour or so. I can have Scott watch him if you would want to investigate Stiles' room to remove any left over cursed substance.”

 

Derek frowned, opening his mouth to argue, but Deaton gave him a pointed look and handed over the left over paste he'd scraped into a bag. Derek reluctantly took it, and Deaton gave him a pleasant little smile. “Just brush it onto whatever is cursed. You'll be able to smell it where it is. By now it should have rotted whatever it touched.”

 

Derek nodded and looked up as Scott walked in. He pointed at the beta, growling lightly. “If Stiles wakes up, you call me immediately.”

 

Scott, thankfully, didn't argue. He nodded and walked over to Stiles side as Derek walked out. He huffed and tucked the bag into his pocket, wrinkling his nose at the smell of it. Of course something else had to wriggle it's way into their lives, something else to add more problems. Derek sighed and stepped into his car, he backed out and raced out of the lot, just barely staying within the speed limit, wanting to just get this over with so he could get back to Stiles' side. After what happened he felt uneasy leaving his mate. He did have that connection to him, so he could feel if something came back to hurt the boy, but he still didn't feel safe leaving him.

 

He pulled over onto the street in front of the Stilinski home and stepped out of the car, then paused when that scent of sickness was strong like when he first came by the last time. He growled lowly and burst into the house, racing up to Stiles' room and throwing the door open. He stopped when he saw the creature there, a wall of sick-stench hitting him like a train. He choked back the urge to gag and stared at it, as it stared up at him with gold, wide eyes.

 

It's hands were stained with a black gunk, that make the wooden floors below it creak and groan, rotting at it's touch. Behind it, it had white wings spread out behind it, almost as big as Stiles but molted, feathers dropping out of it, leaving behind gray, sickly-looking skin. It made a groaning noise, backing up a few steps, wheezing as it scrambled back when Derek stepped forward.

 

It moved more like a scared animal than human, it's eyes seemed clouded over as while. The closer Derek looked, he noticed it's eyes were trembling in it's sockets, and when it's darkened lips parted, he could see rotted, black-coated teeth, and the stench of sick got stronger. Derek covered his mouth and nose as he got a bit closer, and it whimpered softly, scrambling back until it hit the window sill and fell backward. It thumped against the roof a few times, before it seemed to get it's wits about it and was up in the sky.

 

Derek growled softly, then let out a breath and swallowed down the feeling of nausea. He pulled out his phone and dialed Scott's number, dropping down to his knees to check on the rotted hand prints on the floor.

 

“Derek?”

 

“Put me on speaker, Scott.” He muttered as he pulled the bag of paste out of his pocket. He waited for a moment, taking a scoop of the paste on his finger tips and rubbing it into the rotted spot. When Scott gave him the okay he huffed. “I found the cursed creature. It looks like it was an angel, like Stiles, but it looks very sickly.” He scrubbed it in with his claws, wincing slightly as it stung at his fingers for a split second. “It ran pretty soon once I got close to it.”

 

“I see.” Deaton's voice came through the phone. “It must be desperate if it came back that quickly.” There was a shuffling sound after a moment before the vet spoke again. “Just spread some of that paste I gave you across the window sill, it should keep it from returning for the night.”

 

Derek frowned. “Is there anyway to keep it away for longer?”

 

Deaton huffed. “I could figure out something, but for now that should work.”

 

Derek hummed, spreading the paste on the next mark, then paused. “Did... is Stiles awake?”

 

“Not yet.” Scott spoke up. “He's okay for now, Derek.” He paused a moment. “I'll call if anything happens.”

 

Derek's lips twitched into a deeper frown and he mumbled his thanks to Scott before hanging up. He moved across the floor, covering up the rest of the cursed spots on the floor and then spread the remains of it across the window sill. He frowned when he saw how a hand print of it on the sill had nearly completely rotted the wood out.

 

Derek didn't want to know what made that angel the way it was, what made it cursed like that, to the point it looked sickly and more animal than anything else, act with seemingly little human thought. He shuddered, smearing the paste thick over the sill. He sharply tugged his mind away from the thought of Stiles ever becoming something like that and finished up, tossing the bag away and snapping the window shut, just in case.

 

He wasn't going to take any chances of that angel coming back for Stiles. He was not going to let it hurt him, whether it meant to or not. He would _find_ a way to rip it to shreds if it ever laid a finger on his mate.


	23. Chapter 23

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles wakes up and is filled in on the cursed being following him.

When Stiles regained consciousness, it was slow. It felt like there were lead weights on his eye lids, and all his limbs were weighed down. His head ached, sharp throbbing pain ricocheting around his skull making him wince. He could hear voices around him, but it was like he was trying to listen to them through a thick wall of cotton. He groaned, wincing as the sound made his head ache more, how it brought attention to how raw his throat was.

 

“Stiles.”

 

Derek's voice was clear, worry and a hint of anger coloring his tone. It seemed like everything was lifted away, all the walls and weights preventing him from coming awake fully thrown off, and he blinked his eyes open, wincing when he was met with a bright light that pierced through his eyes and stabbed into his brain.

 

“Fuck.” He cursed, voice still rough and thick. The light was quickly turned away and he was finally able to actually see. Derek was leaning over him, brows furrowed and hands gripping Stiles like he'd be lifted away if he didn't hold onto him. Scott was on his other side, looking a mix of confused and worried that, at any other time, Stiles would be laughing at. Just above his head Deaton was there, watching over Stiles carefully.

 

“How are you feeling?” Deaton asked, and Stiles winced.

 

“Like my head's about to cave in.” He looked up to Derek, sighing as the werewolf moved a hand up to the base of Stiles skull, some of the pain leeching away. He blinked up to the vet again. “What happened?”

 

Deaton continued to calmly watch him, even as he spoke about how Stiles had something cursed vying for is attention. He felt that when you're talking about something cursed that had Stiles knocked out for half a day, calm was the last thing you should be.

 

“So, what exactly are we supposed to do about this thing? Because I would really rather not go through this again. Can we just kill it and get it over with, please?”

 

Deaton sighed, shaking his head. “You need to help it. Then, it will leave you alone.”

 

Stiles did not like this plan. He didn't like it one bit. Going by Derek's vaguely pissed off look, he felt the same about it.

 

“Okay, so, how exactly am I supposed to help it? You did say something about how I had a panic attack and passed out because of this thing, right? I didn't imagine that?” Deaton nodded, lips drawn tight together but Stiles ignored that and continued on his rant. “Then how the hell am I supposed to do that? It touches me or even gets near me and shit goes bad, doesn't it? I'm not supposed to be near this thing!”

 

Deaton sighed again, then turned his back on Stiles. Stiles was just about to start yelling again, because no, he just found out that there's this cursed thing that's been following him around for who knows how long, and it isn't safe for him to be around, because it apparently messed him right the hell up, and here Deaton was suggesting he should be getting all close up and personal with it. He stopped when he heard Deaton riffling around through something, and let out a breath when the vet turned back around.

 

“I can give you something that'll make it easier for you, you'll have more tolerance over it. The only way for you to get rid of it is to help it. Cursed beings, when they find someone that can help them, they don't let go of them. It's your only choice, and it's better for you to get it done with before your other problems decide to show their ugly heads again.”

 

Stiles huffed, narrowing his eyes at the pendant Deaton was holding up. It was filled with some sort of purple dust that glittered when the light hit it, in glass that was shaped into something that looked almost like a serpent. It hung on some string that looked rough and itchy and like it was made years before he was born. He frowned but took the pendant. “So I just wear this and being around it won't effect me?”

 

Deaton nodded. “As much. You'll feel weaker and woozy but as long as you don't spend too long around it you should be fine.” He looked over to Derek. “I'll make the dust to cloak your scent so you can be there. As long as it doesn't see you immediately and you don't threaten it, it should stay.”

 

Stiles sat up, grimacing as his vision blurred and his brain felt like it was swimming in his skull. He relaxed as Derek's hand rubbed along his back, the soothing motion making the sudden wave of nausea he felt go down a little. “So can I leave now?”

 

Deaton nodded. “Don't strain yourself.” He glanced up to Derek as the alpha moved to pick Stiles up off the table, Stiles grumbling about it but not stopping him. “Just make sure to rest until you feel completely better.”

 

Derek rumbled, pulling Stiles close to his chest as he walked out of the office. Stiles let out a small puff of breath and pressed his face into the curve of Derek's throat, feeling the alpha's growl resonate through his chest.

 

When they got back to the Stilinski home, Derek mostly let Stiles walk, supporting most of the teen's weight after he stumbled with his first step, and he completely moved past the living room, instead lifting Stiles up to bring him up the stairs and into his bedroom, depositing the boy on his bed and curling up behind him. Derek lifting Stiles up just enough to pull off his shirt and jeans, digging out a pair of sweats for the both of them and pulling them on over Stiles' uncooperative legs. When he was finished dressing himself down, tossing his jeans and shirt off somewhere Stiles couldn't see, Derek pressed himself up behind Stiles, nipping at his wings as they twitched around the wolf's shoulders. He buried his face into the skin between them, moving his hands so one was pressed up against the teen's stomach and the other against the thumping-beat of his heart against his chest. Stiles relaxed as the lingering pain in his head melted away, letting out a little sigh at the feeling.

 

Derek pressed his lips to the stretch of skin between Stiles' shoulder blades, rubbing his face again it gently as he murmured. “Love you, Stiles.”

 

Stiles smiled sleepily, all of his energy draining away with the pain. He reached a hand down to lace his fingers together with Derek's against his stomach and pushed back into him, closing his eyes. “Love you, too, Der...” Stiles mumbled, just before he was dragged into sleep.


	24. Chapter 24

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The hallucinations caused by the cursed being get worse.

The rest of the week, Stiles kept getting that feeling of being watch again. When he was practicing with the crossbow, or perfecting the mark for Derek, or even just curled up on the couch with Derek. He shuddered, feeling uneasy as he felt the burn of those eyes on his back from the window, a wave of nausea rolling over him from the memory of seeing it, how his heart just sunk down into the pit of his stomach and panic gripped tight at his insides, to the point he couldn't breathe and his vision went blurry.

 

He let out a slow, shaky breath into Derek's chest, trying to keep calm. The alpha shifted slightly below him, mumbling as he came awake, and curled his arm tight around Stiles, pulling the angel close to him. The wolf nuzzled into Stiles' neck, lifting his head up to whisper into his ear. “I won't let it hurt you again...” He murmured sleepily, rumbling softly when Stiles wriggled in his arms, trying to get closer. “I'll protect you.”

 

“I thought that was supposed to be my job.” Stiles joked, trying to ignore the uneasy feeling he had. Derek hummed, tucking his head back down to lick at Stiles throat. He couldn't quite understand it, but somehow it made him feel better. _I'm hanging around wolves too much..._ Stiles thought fondly, reaching a hand up to curl into Derek's hair.

 

“You need someone to protect you.” Derek responded, lifting alpha-red eyes up to him. “I want to protect you. Keep you safe, with me always.” Derek leaned back in to brush his lips against Stiles' skin, humming softly, the vibrations from it traveling along his spine like electricity and Stiles could feel his unease slowly melt away.

 

Stiles tucked in against Derek, sighing. “Thank you...” He felt the wolf's pleased growl rumbling through his own body, causing him to relax even more into the alpha. Derek tilted his head up just enough to press their mouths together, leading Stiles into a slow, languid kiss. Stiles wings curled in around them, and he closed his eyes, letting Derek's gentle affection ease him back into sleep.

 

 

Stiles could hear groans, the low voice wheezing and wet. “Help...” It called, the word dissolving as the person was overcome by a fit, hacking and coughing, the sound of something wet and thick hitting the ground. “Help...” It called again, sounding pained.

 

Stiles tried to look around, but it was dark around him, there was nothing that he could feel or see, all he could hear was this person, and he could smell blood and sickness, the air stale around him. “Hello?” Stiles called out. He didn't know where Derek had gone, or how he'd gotten out of his bedroom and to where ever he was now. Maybe if he found this person they could help him. If he helped them first.

 

All of the sudden there was a bright light, breaking through the dark. It stabbed into his eyes, making his head throb painfully. It stayed blindingly bright, even behind his eyelids. He felt a breeze whirl around him, the sound of something falling in front of him, then the light faded. Stiles blinked his eyes open, trying to get the dots of color from his vision so he could see.

 

“Help me...”

 

Stiles' vision cleared, just as suddenly as the light had shone, and he looked down. There was someone kneeling there in front of him, head bowed, hands clasped on their knees. Their shoulders shook, quiet sobs coming from them, and... and in seconds the person was covered head to toe in blood, red seeping thick over their skin, their sobs getting louder and louder as the red got darker, blood caking heavy on their skin.

 

Stiles swallowed and reached out, his hand shaking. His fingertips brushed against their shoulder, and then their head shot up, eyes wide, mouth opening wide with a crack, all other movement of their body stopping for a few seconds. Then they inhaled deeply, and screamed, and Stiles watched in horror as large white wings broke through their back, spraying blood and flesh across Stiles face.

 

“STILES!”

 

Stiles gasped, sucking in a deep lungful of air until he coughed and doubled over, tucking his head between his legs as he tried to get his breathing back under control.

 

He jumped when he felt a hand spread over his back, scrambling back and away from it before he looked up to see-

 

“Derek...” Stiles voice was rough, scratchy, like it'd been used for way too long. Or like he'd just spent the past hour screaming.

 

Derek was staring as Stiles in worry, looking shaken up. “You... are you alright?” Derek asked.

 

Stiles took a deep breath; his heart was still pounding painfully hard against his ribs, the images from his nightmare still swirling around his head. Why the fuck had he dreamed that? What... what was happening to him?

 

He felt Derek inch a little closer to him, hesitating a moment before he placed his hand gently against Stiles shoulder. Stiles felt sick, the memory of what happened to the person when he touched them in the dream combining with how Derek almost seemed afraid to touch him. “You... you started screaming. And, when I tried to wake you up you wouldn't move. You just... you wouldn't wake up.”

 

Derek sounded... he sounded terrified. Stiles hadn't ever heard Derek like this before. He squeezed his eyes shut tightly, swallowing down the growing nausea he felt. What was it that was scaring Derek like this? Was it what was happening to Stiles? Or... or was it Stiles himself?

 

“I'm fine...” Stiles said, now feeling just how much he was shaking, hearing how his voice sounded so ripped apart. He reached back to squeeze Derek's hand on his shoulder, feeling some relief when the alpha didn't pull away. “I'm fine...” He repeated. “I'm fine.” He lied.

 

 

Stiles waited. He was alone, in his room, waiting. And waiting and waiting. He felt like screaming. Why was it doing this to him? Why, if it had no intentions to hurt him, was it making him crazy like this? He took a deep breath and fluttered out his wings, wincing as that same image skipped across his mind from the nightmare, the feeling of the blood hot on his face as it splash up at him from the person.

 

“Help... me...”

 

Stiles straightened up, swallowing as he turned toward the window. He saw something move across the room. He heard groaning, wet hacks and coughs making his stomach turn, wheezing breaths making the hair on the back of his neck stand up and his wings straighten in apprehension.

 

“Help, help... help me...”

 

“No. No, no, no, no no nonoNO!” Stiles jerked into his desk, pinching his eyes shut tightly, covering his ears with his hands. He could still hear it. The pleas for help, the groans, the sound of blood splattering across the ground... the screams.

 

He heard the window crack open, and he froze, his spine arching so much he was surprised it didn't break, then he screamed. “LEAVE ME ALONE!”

 

All the sounds died off, leaving Stiles panting and shaking at his desk. He slowly turned to look out his window. It was still closed, the purple paste still there, no sign of anyone or anything being there. He inhaled deeply, trying to calm down. He was just... imagining things. Hallucinating. Deaton said that this cursed being would affect him strongly. This was just... that. It was just making him see and hear things.

 

He didn't feel better. He ran a shaky hand through his hair and stared down at his desk, with the pictures of marks all spread across it. How... many of these type of things are there? What if... there are more? What if they all try to come to him?

 

Stiles shuddered, dropping his hand onto the desk to steady himself, something cool and real there. He closed his eyes for a moment, trying to center himself. There was a crash behind him, loud, making him jump and spin around. There was a tall creature with wings that were once white spread out behind it, wings broken and bleeding red, some of the blood so caked on it was almost black. It was covered completely in blood, it's gold eyes blazing as it stared at him, leaning down so it was right in his face, that sickening stench of illness and blood and death making him gag. It grabbed him by the shoulders, nails digging in like claws, and cracked open his mouth, jaw popping out of place with a slick creaking noise, and it screamed. “HELP ME!”

 

Stiles dropped for the floor, the creature gone, not even a sign of it, his shoulders uninjured, no claw marks or golden eyes watching him from the dark corners of his room to jump him. Stiles heaved, pressing his head to the floor, trying not to throw up. Why had it gotten so bad? Why was this happening to him?

 

Stiles sucked in a deep breath and stood up, shaking all over. He used the wall to support him as he stumbled to the window. Maybe flying would help. He could clear his head. He hadn't been able to stretch his wings and soar for a while. He hobbled up onto the sill, feeling his entire body shaking all over. He didn't think about Derek just downstairs, didn't think about why he had to stay, just that he had to get out, leave and get some fresh air, do something other than just sit around and wait.

 

He stepped out onto the roof, pausing a moment, hearing footsteps following up the stairs, and hearing a creak on the roof beside him. His stomach dropped out, and he slowly turned his head. Just as he saw a red gleam from the side of the window, pain was blooming through his skull from something hitting him, hard. He felt his eyes roll back before everything went dark, feeling himself falling before his body was caught by something hard.

 

Golden eyes watched from a few feet away above the window, the owner whimpering softly in pain, then it stopped, watching as an alpha dragged the boy off the roof and too the ground, slinking off into the shadows with the angel draped over his shoulder. It whined and looked around, then leaped off. It paused a moment, sensing the other alpha, the one that was always around the angel, inside, rushing up the stairs, just a few minutes too late. It paused, waiting outside the window. It could bring the good alpha to the alpha packs hideout, help the angel, more than it could help him. 

 

It sat quietly on the roof outside the window, watching as the alpha threw open the door, eyes burning red, and then his eyes landed on it, and he growled, the rest of his features shifting as he stormed toward it. It didn't move, didn't protest as the alpha pulled it through the window, didn't struggle as it's skin burned from the barrier put up on the window sill, or when the alpha pinned in roughly against the wall. It was going to help the angel, and whether the alpha would follow or not... it would just have to hope he would.


	25. Chapter 25

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With the help of the cursed being, Derek finds and saves Stiles from the alphas.

Derek could sense there was something wrong almost immediately. He'd stormed up off from the couch, ignoring the look he got from Deaton and rushed up the stairs. He tried to see if he could feel around for Stiles at all, feel any specific emotions or anything. Nothing. In fact their connection seemed... it seemed weaker, a _lot_ weaker.

 

Derek growled, already shifting as he got to the top flight of stairs and ready to leap into the room when he was hit with that wall of sick-scent. He wrinkled his nose and took a second, breathing in through his mouth to try fighting down his nausea, and opened the door. And through the window was that same creature, the angel with broken wings and covered in blackened blood and smelling of death, it was sitting there just watching him, expectant, and when Derek took a step closer he could smell the scent of Stiles' pain underlying the sickness. The alpha saw red, letting himself shift as he let loose a roar that echoed throughout the house.

 

“What did you do to him?!” Derek yelled, yanking it out of the window, ignoring the pained whimper it made when it passed through the barrier, and slammed it up against the wall. He ignored the way it almost burned to touch it, like just contact was draining all the pleasant feeling from his body, making where he touched light up with the pain of fire and needles and poison. “ _Where is he_?!”

 

The creature made another whining noise, then wriggled underneath him. Derek growled and squeezed it's shoulders, letting his claws pierce through skin. It's eyes flickered over his face, pausing in it's struggles for a moment before it surged up, forcing it's head to knock into Derek's. Derek was just about to pull back, ready to raise a hand up to rip it's throat out, when something flashed into his mind.

 

Stiles, being dragged off the roof by a large man, who looked up at him, his  _red eyes_ glowing menacingly.

 

Derek gasped, like he'd just been dragged out of water and was trying to get as much oxygen as he could in one breath, and stumbled back, the creature slumping back against the wall and not running. It just... watched him, carefully, patiently, like it was waiting for something.

 

Derek turned around, seeing Deaton giving him an expectant look. “You should get going Derek.” He called, like he knew exactly what Derek had just seen. Derek shook his head, he'd figure it out later, he had to leave, he had to get to Stiles.

 

He turned back to the creature, and it lifted up it's mangled wings. There were long claw marks in the wings, skin blackened by dirt and blood and bruising, the last joint of the left wing looking dislocated and the top arch of the right looking like it was broken. How the creature managed to fly, he had no idea, given the pain whimper it gave when it shifted the wings at all. It gave him an expectant look, then turned to the window. Derek paused a moment, then scratched of the dried paste, following closely behind the creature as it climbed out the window. It leaped across the roof onto a nearby tree and climbed near the top, looking down at Derek when it got high enough.

 

“Hey, what are you...” Derek trailed off as gold eyes stared down at him from one of the higher branches of the tree.

 

“ _Follow_.” A raspy, barely there voice spoke, before the angel was up and flying, wobbling slightly before it got a little bit of a rhythm going. Derek glanced back at the vet one last time before he took off after the creature, keeping an eye on it from down on the ground.

 

He followed for what felt like hours, the growl that started rumbling in his chest five minutes in growing louder and louder, until the angel was suddenly banking down, crashing through the trees ungracefully and falling down in front of him. It stared at him for a moment, then glanced to the side. Derek reluctantly looked over, not trusting it one little bit, and saw an old abandoned building there, smelling of old chemicals, oil and blood.

 

“In there.” It rasped, and Derek looked back at it. It was wincing, wiping off blackness from the corner of it's mouth, gold eyes glancing over to him. It hung it's wings down low and tucked them in. They wouldn't fully fold in like Stiles' could, too injured to have full control over them. It started walking inside, and Derek followed closely behind it. He wasn't going to let it out of his sight, if it made one move to try and leave he was going to rip it's head off, whether he could actually kill it or not.

 

He said this out loud, and the creature nodded, and turned back to him. “Quiet now.” It muttered before they walked inside.

 

The inside of the building looked just as bad as the outside. The walls were decorated with smoke damage and burns, blood that seemed fresh splashed across the entry way. Derek paused, then growled. _Stiles._

 

The angel turned back to him and pressed it's finger to it's lips. Derek frowned, but cut himself off. He could smell other wolves here, too, alphas. He felt a twist of guilt in his stomach as they moved down a hallway, following more of Stiles' blood. If he stayed with Stiles, this wouldn't have happened. He closed his eyes, trying to reach out his senses, listen for Stiles heart beat.

 

“ _I think I need some time alone for a little_.” Stiles had muttered the night before. Stiles had been fidgety and jumpy all week, ever since... ever since that first dream. He'd had so many nights since then of screaming, waking up pale and sweat-slick, scent turned sour from fear. “ _You can go and meet Deaton and I can stay here, it'll just be for a few hours. Nothing will happen then. The window is blocked off with that herb mix._ ” Stiles looked up and gave Derek a smile. “ _I'll be fine. I just... I think I need to try and work some of this stuff out of my system. Scream into some pillows, maybe punch some stuff. If I wear myself out I might not have a nightmare tonight._ ” And of course, Derek had to listen. His mate wanted it, so he listened. He wasn't going to be far away, he did make that argument, but he was going to give Stiles some time alone.

 

He stopped, focusing back in now. He was going to save Stiles. Stiles wasn't going to be hurt again because of him. No, Stiles wasn't going to be hurt again, _period_.

 

They stopped at the end of the hall, where the long bloody hallway formed into a set of stairs stained with red, doors with bright red hand prints on them. If he concentrated, now Derek could feel Stiles through it; the pain, the anger, and lingering fear of his mate. He could just hear Stiles heartbeat, still strong and loud like always, just a touch quicker than usual. Stiles was alive. Stiles was still alive.

 

The angel paused a moment, then looked back at him. It's wide eyes seemed to be giving a warning, and it raised a hand up to cover it's eyes, then gave him a pointed look. Derek frowned and it frowned right back at him, then pushed the door open. It kept one of it's hands up, and if Derek looked closely enough, he could see it's finger's shaking, the creature wincing as it drew it's fist tighter. He wasn't sure exactly what it had planned. He could only hope if it turned on him he would be fast enough to counter it, and that after that the alpha's wouldn't find the opportunity to strike.

 

They didn't have to continue much further before Derek could hear voices.

 

“He's not cooperating.” A high pitched female voice said, almost pixie like. “We should just kill him off, we can find another just like him somewhere else, I'm sure.”

 

A low, distinctly male voice growled, and there was a slamming sound followed by the female whining. “No! No killing him. Aurik wants him alive.” A beat, and then the sound of footsteps before Stiles whined, chains rattling. “He'll break eventually. They all do.” They was a sound of electricity, and Derek had to dig his claws into his palms to stop from just lunging down the hall when he heard Stiles screaming, the scent of burning flesh overpowering the sickness sticking to the creature he followed. The sound of sparks died off as the lights flickered above them before going out completely. “It'll take time. He's just a little stronger than the others.”

 

There was a sigh. “We'll have to resort to other matters of making him do as we want, then.”

 

There was a pause, then, and Derek felt Stiles' panic. The cursed angel paused a moment, then made a soft, gasping sound before it was taking off down the hall, Derek following closely, already shifting, ready to fight as the scents of the alpha's got closer, Stiles' heartbeat arching higher and faster.

 

“Ugh, what is that stench?” The female alpha complained, and they turned a corner, a door at the end of the hall lit up, and Stiles was there, so close.

 

There was a beat, Stiles' panic dropping off, then ratcheting higher than before. “No. No, no, no. Not here. Why? Why won't it leave me alone?!” Stiles' voice was rough, and then one of the alpha's growled, and there was the sound of flesh colliding hard with flesh, then a sickening pop and Stiles screaming so loud his voice just deteriorated, the sound shaking him to his bones, his pain flooding Derek's senses, ripping a growl from Derek's throat, the door right there.

 

They burst through, and the angel leaped in, ripping one of the handles off the door, the metal rusting and bending in it's grip. It flew across the room and plunged it into the female's chest, twisting it as she screamed until the alpha slumped underneath it. Where the angel touched her skin turned black and sunken, all life draining out of her.

 

Derek turned away, growling as he lunged at the alpha near Stiles. His vision went red when he saw how Stiles was slumped over, his arms bound above him in shackles, his wings forced spread by thick bands that cut into them, dangling a few feet off the ground. Stiles was hiccuping, tears running constantly over his face, and his body was twitching every few seconds, pained whimpers falling from his mouth.

 

Derek pinned the alpha to the ground, roaring as he plunged his clawed hand into the alpha's chest. The male alpha lifted him up, roaring right back, then he stopped. The cursed angel was behind the alpha, hands locked around his chin and the back of his neck, and it twisted and lifted up until the alpha's head separated from the neck, spraying blood over the both of them. The body crumpled to the ground, and Derek looked to the angel, watching it toss the head away before it looked over to Stiles and whined.

 

Derek moved over to his mate, jumping up and tugging down at the shackles with all of his might until they pulled away from the ceiling. The bands snapped, and Stiles slumped to the ground with a pained cry. Derek cradled the boy in his arms, searching over his body for wounds. He couldn't hold back the growl that climbed up his throat when he saw Stiles wing, the tip twisted at an angle, blood flowing freely from claw marks around it. Stiles body was littered with burn marks, skin blackened and raw, two little round puncture marks at the center of each one, and he had a nasty bruise forming on the back of his head.

 

“Derek.” Stiles whimpered, clinging to the alpha, and Derek pulled Stiles closer, carefully, glancing up and around the room to see the cursed angel waiting by the entrance, looking impatient. Derek gathered Stiles up and started out of the room, being careful with his injured wing. “Derek it hurts... It hurts so much.”

 

Derek swallowed, shifting his hands so he had one palm pressing to the skin between Stiles' wings, sucking the pain out of Stiles. His knees nearly buckled from the rush of pain flowing into him. How was Stiles even still conscious? He glanced to Stiles wing, how the skin was darkening around the injury with a bruise, blood not letting up as it continued to leak out freely. _Need to get him to Deaton._ Derek started running down the hall, ignoring how Stiles' pain was making his entire body throb like all his bones were broken, just concentrating on holding onto Stiles and getting them out of there.

 

When they'd gotten outside, the cursed angel was gone, it's footprints of blackened soil and graying mulch just suddenly ending. Derek didn't pay much attention to it, sure it'd be back soon enough. He wasn't quite sure why it'd helped them, but... he wasn't going to complain. He tucked Stiles against his body, trying to soothe the boy as best he could. Stiles had dissolved into soft, wrecked hiccuping sobs that he buried into Derek's chest, and, alarmingly, Stiles wings weren't moving.

 

Derek was so used to seeing Stiles' wings moving almost constantly. They were practically sentient, moving and reacting with Stiles, and sometimes without his permission. They constantly twitched or rotated or just... moved, somehow. The fact they the both were completely still now, just simply dangling there, not even tucked up against Stiles body just, hanging out, was unsettling.

 

“Just hold on, Stiles.” Derek muttered, watching Stiles eyes flutter open for a moment before they dropped back closed, the boy murmuring softly as he sagged in Derek's arms. He kept breathing, his heart still beating. Derek listened to those two things, starting to run back home. “Just hold on...”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a tumblr now! :D I mostly reblog stupid stuff and TW stuff. Buuuut I'm gonna start saying when I update fics so if you want to keep up on that (or like stupid stuff) here's my [page](http://rarajoeyanna.tumblr.com/).


	26. Chapter 26

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Derek gets Stiles back home and Deaton helps to put Stiles back together physically from the injuries he sustained from the alphas.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter might be delayed a little due to RL events. Haven't been able to write up the next chapter yet so... we'll see. Hopefully I can have it up in time. :)

When Stiles regained consciousness, it was sharp, quick, like the crack of a whip. It felt like one, two, lines of fire spearing up through his right side, ripping a scream from his throat. Hands pressed him firmly back down into whatever soft surface he was lying on and the pain leached out a little, causing him to sag in relief.

 

“What's wrong?” Came Derek's voice, sounding angry.

 

There was a sigh, then the snapping of a pair of gloves and Deaton spoke. “His wing is broken. Unfortunately, it's a rather bad break, it tore through some muscle and skin, and it'd be safe to say it splintered, so there are going to be bone fragments scattered through there.” The vet made a soft tutting sound, and Stiles bit into his lip when that pain came rushing back for a second, before it disappeared again, and Derek grunted in pain. “The fact that it was done by an alpha makes it worse. It's going to take some time to heal. I'll need to set it and remove some of the fragments before it gets too deep into the healing process.”

 

Derek growled, and the hand pressing into the small of his back twitched in agitation. Then Derek took a deep breath, and the hand relaxed, palm spreading flat across Stiles' sweat-slick skin. “What do you need?”

 

Deaton paused a moment, then Stiles could hear him moving around. “I'll just need a few things from the office. Make sure he doesn't move, we'll move him to a better area to do the operation when I get back.”

 

There were a few seconds, then the door shutting, and Derek was shifting around him. Stiles blinked his eyes open, lifting his head just slightly to see Derek kneeling in front of him, looking scared and worried and relieved all at once. “Does it still hurt too bad?”

 

“No.” Stiles swallowed, looking over Derek for a moment, before he had to drop his eyes to the floor. This was his fault. He shouldn't have left. He knew that it was bad to leave, that if he left something was going to happen, but he was too panicked to think about it. He could've just gone downstairs and told Derek he needed to get out. And Derek would've been there, and none of this would've happened. “I'm sorry...”

 

“What? Why? Stiles, this isn't-”

 

“No.” Stiles cut him off. “It is my fault. I should've just gone to you. I was an idiot just walking out, I got myself caught by them because I was scared of some stupid thing messing around with my head.”

 

There were a few seconds of silence, then Derek was lifting a hand up to curl around Stiles' chin, his thumb stroking along Stiles' jaw. “Hey, Stiles, look at me.” When a few seconds passed and Stiles made no move to obey Derek, the alpha leaned forward to press a soft, gentle kiss to Stiles' forehead. “Please...”

 

Stiles sighed, but looked up to his alpha. Derek looked over him, his gray-hazel eyes taking in Stiles face, he brushed a finger lightly over one of the bruises marking Stiles' cheek. The faint hurt wasn't enough for Stiles' to flinch away, just enough to help him focus more on Derek, rather than the floating-through-cotton feeling he had from the immense pain from his back. It was a little like his wings were coming through again, the pain was so bad. Stiles took a breath and focused back on Derek, just concentrating completely on Derek's light eyes.

 

“That's better.” Derek muttered, running his fingers lightly through Stiles' hair. “It's not your fault... I don't blame you.” He smiled softly. “You panicked. You get a pass on this. You don't need to fret about this.” There was a pause, then Derek was looking up over Stiles, and Stiles could feel the small feathers around where wing met skin raise up.

 

“It's here, isn't it...?”

 

Derek nodded slowly, then looked down to Stiles. “It helped me. And it seemed to leave like it knew it was hurting you.” He shrugged. “It's not that bad.”

 

Stiles sighed. “When I'm not bedridden I could help it but right now it's not really appreciated.”

 

Derek waited a few moments, then dropped his gaze back to Stiles. “It's gone now.” He looked over Stiles, eyes lingering on Stiles' wings for a few moments. “It's weird, that they're not moving as much.” Derek reached the hand he had pressing against Stiles' lower back up along his spine, brushing lightly through the soft down against his back. “I'm glad to have you back...”

 

Stiles nodded slowly, then bit his lip. “Could you...”

 

Derek just smiled before Stiles could finish talking, leaning down and pressing their mouths together in a long, slow kiss. When they did finally pull apart Derek leaned his forehead against Stiles', the both of them panting heavily as they caught their breath.

 

Stiles felt better, reassured with Derek there, with Derek close to him and touching him. He was terrified of the alphas, he couldn't move from the shackles and his wings... he felt sick every time they touched his wings. He could endure the cuts they started out with, and the electrical prod they used after, but when the larger alpha broke his wing he couldn't take it anymore. The pain was indescribable, and it didn't end, even now it hurt just about as bad as when Derek was carrying him out of the building. But with Derek there with him, the longer the alpha stayed by him, touching him and kissing him, the more the pain started to fade a bit. It might've helped with Derek taking the pain away.

 

“Thanks.” Stiles muttered, watching Derek's eyes light up and his lips curl with a soft smile. He nodded, and ducked back in to meld their mouths back together again, stealing a little more of Stiles' pain away and drawing the boy's mind further and further away from the incident with the alpha pack.

 

 

It was a few minutes later when Deaton returned with a briefcase in hand, and between Derek and the vet they'd moved Stiles into the center of the room on his stomach. The vet pulled a syringe from the briefcase and, before Stiles could move to see, injected his side, putting him under within a few minutes.

 

Deaton looked up to Derek. “You'll have to leave for this next part.” When the alpha made no move the vet raised his eyes, calmly looking at him as he spoke. “He'll be fine, Derek. The sooner I can get started the sooner Stiles' pain will be relieved.”

 

Reluctantly, Derek left, grumbling a little as he did, focusing his senses in on Stiles in case something went wrong. He listened to the boy's steady heartbeats, the rhythm of his light breaths, as he walked outside.

 

He glanced over to the window looking in to the den, where he'd seen the cursed angel from a few moments ago. The ground again was dying underneath it, grass and mulch turned black, a pair of footprints there that looked burned into the ground. Derek walked over, shifting his nails into claws and letting his canines lengthen, just in case, and stopped when he saw something hanging above the window.

 

There was a braided, black cord, on it a smooth, perfectly round white stone, the center of it carved into a perfect circle that reminded Derek of the marks that Stiles had been practicing for weeks. He sniffed it for wolfsbane or mistletoe or something else harmful, then pulled it off the small tack it was hung up with. He flipped the stone over and found something else scrawled in the back, a jumble of symbols that made Derek's head ache just to look at. He huffed and pocketed it, then looked in on Deaton. The vet had the injured wing spread out on a cloth, catching the little drips of blood falling down as he dropped bone fragments in a tin next to him. Derek couldn't see the rest of the wing, how bad the break was through Deaton's body, but he could smell the blood, and the little twinges of pain whenever a new fragment was pulled out, Stiles' face twitching on some but never waking.

 

Derek sighed, leaning against the wall as he watched Stiles and Deaton through the window, focusing on the boy lying unconscious on the floor. The other part of his focus was on the soft pained whimpers at the treeline behind him, that now familiar scent of sickness.

 

“Why'd you help us?” Derek asks, still facing the window. “I could've just ripped you to pieces, gotten rid of you to keep Stiles' from hurting, but you stood up to me to help him. Why?”

 

There was no answer, just the sound of the creature shifting on the branch, whimpering softly in pain. Derek huffed, but didn't speak to it again, watching over Stiles carefully as he listened. After a few more moments of shifting, the creature finally dropped to the ground, walking over to stand beside Derek. He could hear the groan and hiss of the earth dying beneath it's feet as it moved, until it stopped, settling beside Derek with a soft sound.

 

“Needed to.” It said softly, voice still rough and thick. It lifted up a hand to wipe away some of the black from around it's mouth and looked up to Derek. “Needed to help him.”

 

Derek frowned. “Why though? Why him and not someone else to help you?”

 

It shrugged, turning it's gold eyes back to the window, where Stiles was lying still as Deaton now shifted the broken bone back into it's proper place. The bone was splintered, the break jagged and Derek could see where muscle and sinew was ripped apart by the alpha. He saw red, and he heard the creature let out a low hiss. When he turned it looked infuriated, it's jaw set as it's gold eyes seemed to glow even brighter. It let out a slow breath, and finally answered again. “It had to be him.” It muttered, before it was stepping back, kicking off the ground and wobbling in the air for a moment before it was taking off.

 

Derek watched it until it's dark shape disappeared in the night sky, then turned back to the window to see Deaton finishing up with Stiles, stitching the really bad wounds closed and attaching a cuff over the break and around the base of Stiles' wing to keep it from moving. The alpha let out a breath, watching the vet gather up his things and raise up from the ground. He turned toward the window, as if he knew the entire time that Derek was looking in, and nodded toward the angel lying on the floor. “You may come back in, Derek. I'm sure when Stiles wakes up he'd like to see you.”

 

Derek nodded, watching the man walk out of the room, and started to come inside. He rubbed his thumb over the small stone pendant in his pocket, frowning slightly. He'd have to ask Deaton about it. Right now... Derek thought as he walked inside, closing the door behind him as he pulled the necklace out of his pocket, settling in on the counter dividing the entry way from the den. I need to be with my mate...

 

Derek walked across the room, listening to Stiles steady heartbeat, his breath puffing out softly, just slightly uneven. Stiles' uninjured wing twitched, and just that little bit of movement had relief flooding through him, Derek letting out a breath that felt like he'd been holding in forever, at least since Derek saw Stiles in the abandoned building that night.

 

The alpha fell onto the floor beside the boy, bringing a shaky hand up to gently brush through the soft feathers of that wing. It moved again, arching up into his hand, and Derek smiled, allowing himself to dig his fingers further into them, brushing gently through them, rustling the feathers and smoothing them down in gentle passes.

 

Derek continued that for a while, not paying attention as minutes went by, until Deaton was coming back into the room, all packed away ready to go. The vet spoke softly as Derek kept his eyes on Stiles, not even pausing in the gentle stroked up and down Stiles' wing. “When he wakes up he can move, he just needs to be careful with his injuries. He's house-ridden for at least a week while it heals, and after that he can't wrap them so he'll have to avoid the public. No flying for a month, possibly earlier if the tissue is restored by then, but that's something we'll work on later.”

 

Deaton paused a moment, and Derek glanced up, seeing him staring at the pendant that was left hanging outside the window. “Ah, I see Stiles' friend left a gift for him. It'll be useful, it's a charm that angels use to help heal their wounds in a more timely matter.” He picked it up and looked it over for a moment, before holding it out to Derek. “It'll speed up how fast his body restores it's self to about the same as a werewolf's body would, maybe a little quicker.”

 

Derek nodded slowly, still a little skeptical of it. Of the creature, even though it had helped them. Just because it helped once doesn't mean it wasn't going to hurt them. “Should we use it?”

 

Deaton shrugged. “There's none of the curse residue on it, you'd be able to smell it if there was, so it wouldn't hurt Stiles that way, and the aura coming from it only has good intentions. Also something you'd be able to tell, though Stiles is probably more qualified for that kind of sense.” He pressed it into Derek's hand and stepped back. “You should consider yourselves lucky you have someone watching over you like that. Especially over Stiles.” There was another beat of silence, and Derek had the feeling that he was missing something, that Deaton was leaving something out. Then again, that happened a lot, so, it could just be a feeling. The man's scent and heart didn't say he was lying or giving a half-truth or anything, either.

 

“Okay.” Derek took the pendant, twisting the knot of the necklace cord in his fingers as he watched Deaton leave. “If we need anything, I'll call.”

 

The vet nodded and with that he left, leaving Derek alone with Stiles. He hesitated a moment, then set the pendant gently on Stiles' back, between his wings, ready to snatch it up just in case and call Deaton back if it backfired. At first, nothing happened, then there was a small flicker of gold light from the stone, light that divided into small tendrils and slithered across Stiles' body, following a jagged and jumping path along him until they curled around his wounds. He couldn't see under the cast, but he could see the burn marks along Stiles' torso slowly sewing shut, the light fading gradually until it disappeared completely along with the wound.

 

Stiles' free wing twitched, and Derek stopped his staring for long enough to resume his stroking along it. The boy made a soft sound in his sleep, pinching his eyes shut a little tighter as the lights flickered across his face healing up bruises and scrapes there, and finally they all gathered up into one point around the brace, working slowly on the wing. It didn't seem like it was making much progress, because soon the light just exploded into little bursts around it and fizzled out, the stone's light dying out. He huffed and lifted it off, setting it aside and running his fingers lightly along the brace. Stiles gave a pained whimper, and Derek immediately pulled his hand back. _No, that was still injured. Maybe the wings take more power to heal?_

 

Derek frowned, scritching his nails along the arch of Stiles' wing, feeling it move up into his hand. He was glad they were reacting normally again, life coming back to Stiles' animated wings was a good sign. He leaned down, brushing his face against the feathers, pressing a soft kiss to the sensitive, giving skin near the tip. As soon as the other one healed he was definitely going to be spending some time grooming and teasing them, they were long overdue. And hopefully with the further decreased number of alphas they'd get a little bit of a reprieve.

 

Speaking of... Derek fished out his phone from his pocket and pulled up Scott's number, swiping his thumb over the call button and pressing it to his ear, ruffling and then smoothing out feathers as the phone rang.

 

“nn... 'lo?” Scott's sleepy voice carried through the phone.

 

“It's Derek. We had a situation.” Derek spoke calmly, quickly throwing in afterward. “It's okay now, we're all back home and recovering. The alpha's came and took Stiles but he's back. He'd just hurt, and it's going to take him some time to heal up, so we'll need some extra security, just in case.”

 

There was some rustling on the other end of the phone, then Scott, sounding much more awake, spoke up again. “Stiles was hurt? How? He's gonna be okay, right?” There was a pause and then a loud thump, the teen grunting like he was hit – or more likely fell – and then a door closing. “I'll be right over there. I can bring my mom over to check him out, too. Get a second opinion. I'll bring Isaac and Allison, too.”

 

Derek scrunched his nose up at the mention of the Argent girl. He still didn't exactly trust her, but Stiles would probably like her to be there. But while he's hurt she could also alert the other hunters about his weakened state and they'd have another problem on their hands. “Just Isaac, Scott. And most of his wounds are healed, it's just, his wing was broken, and it's going to take some time. He won't be able to fly for a while or leave the house while it's in the brace. He'll probably want some company and any extra help we have to keep back threats the better.”

 

“Right.” Scott said, thankfully not protesting about Allison. “It'll take a bit, but we'll be there.” And with that, the teen hung up.

 

Derek huffed, shaking his head as he tossed his phone off to the side. He glanced down at Stiles, and noticed something... different.

 

Stiles' breathing was slightly off, quicker, rasping a little probably from the scream he let loose earlier that night, and his heart was slowly ticking up higher and higher. Derek reached out, placing a gentle hand over the back of Stiles' neck, curling the other one through his wings. The boy's eyes were flickering wildly beneath his lids, cold sweat slicking his skin. He's having another nightmare.

 

“Stiles, calm down, it's only a dream.” Derek murmured softly, leaning down to say it directly into his ear, feeling the wing beneath him buck up into his stomach. “Shh, it's okay, you're safe, you're okay.”

 

Stiles let out a scared whimper, twisting around. “Derek.” He cried, sounding completely wrecked, terrified and small like Derek had never heard him. It practically ripped his heart to shreds.

 

He blinked away the tears welling in his eyes and pressed a kiss to Stiles' ear. “Yeah, I'm here, you're okay. You're alright, Stiles. Whatever it is, it's not going to hurt you. You're okay.”

 

Derek continued whispering reassurances to his mate, listening as his heart rate slowly came down, his breaths becoming more even. It took a few minutes, Derek rubbing his hands over Stiles' neck and wing, feeling the pulse thumping softer and softer against his thumb, until Stiles let out a breath and blinked his eyes open, whining softly as he shifted.

 

“Don't move yet.” Derek admonished, clamping his hands down to keep Stiles from moving too much. “Just rest for a bit then I'll help you up, but right now you need to rest.”

 

Stiles nodded, then tilted his head back, just enough to nudge Derek's hand up into his scalp, where he ran his fingers through Stiles' hair, massaging and scratching as he shifted around to sit in front of Stiles. The boy looked up at him, his eyes still holding a little apprehension, but it was mostly gone now, now that he'd realized whatever nightmare he was having wasn't real. Wonder what it was about... could be the curse still affecting him or the alphas... He felt a growl rumble through his chest. If they weren't dead I'd be going back and killing them as brutally as I could imagine...

 

“Derek?” Stiles' tired voice called, and Derek came back, looking down at his mate and giving him a small smile. Stiles twitched and shifting forward just enough to lean his head onto Derek's knee. “I'm sorry...”

 

Derek shook his head, brushing the hair back from Stiles' face. “Stiles... I already told you not to apologize for that...”

 

Stiles sighed and nodded. “I know.” He paused a moment, lifting his arms up from his sides to pillow his head. “I was having a nightmare about the alphas... that they broke my wings completely apart, and beat me and burned me.” He closed his eyes tightly, letting out a shaking breath. “It felt so real... I could feel everything... It hurt so much...”

 

Derek choked back a whine at how lost Stiles sounded, how miserable he sounded. He wished he could help Stiles, keep those nightmares away. The best he could do was what he just now did, soothing Stiles out of the dream, waking him slowly with reassuring words and gentle touches to bring him back into reality. It didn't feel good enough. He felt like he was letting his mate down. _I'm supposed to protect him..._ The alpha looked over the angel, taking him the cast on his wing, how pale he looked, color just now returning to his skin, still smelling a little bit of fear and pain. _What a great job I'm doing..._

 

With a soft noise, Derek moved around until he was lying beside Stiles, curling him up gently into his arms and then he pressed his palms to the skin between Stiles' wings, wincing slightly as he took away some of the boy's pain. He felt relieved as Stiles relaxed a little in his arms; Derek was going to try and find whatever he could to help him, no matter what it took. He wasn't going to mess up again with his mate. His mate was never going to get hurt ever again.

 

Derek's chest rumbled with a low growl as he tightened his hold around Stiles just a little, licking at the drying sweat on his neck. Crimson eyes glowed softly in the dark of the room, and several feet away at the tree line were golden eyes, watching carefully over the couple. It was carving into a small stone, much like the pendant already inside the house. It's wings twitched, the more heavily damaged one sending a spark of pain throughout their body, and the gold eyes closed for a moment, a pained whimper echoing softy in the clearing. Soon, it just had to wait. _It would stop soon._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a tumblr now! :D I mostly reblog stupid stuff and TW stuff. Buuuut I'm gonna start saying when I update fics so if you want to keep up on that (or like stupid stuff) here's my [page](http://rarajoeyanna.tumblr.com/).


	27. Chapter 27

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles comes to terms with the injuries he sustained from the encounter with the alphas.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Much shorter chapter than usual, I'm sorry! This week was crazy for me so I didn't have much time to write. Good news is there's lots of hurt/comfort in this and the next chapter so if that's your thing, you're in luck.
> 
> (Also, I'm sorry. Take up any complaints you have with the fake alpha pack. Thank you.)

Stiles took a breath, shifting his wings slightly, wincing when a shock of pain ran up his side. Dammit. He relaxed the muscles in his back, letting his wings droop. He looked up to Deaton, who was finishing up the removal of the cast, and Derek, who was watching over him, worried, just as he had been since he found Stiles.

 

It had been a few days since the incident, and Deaton had always been complimenting how well he was healing but... Stiles was worried. He couldn't feel anything most of the time, his right wing was fine, he could move it well enough once the bruising caused by the straps the alpha's held him up with healed, but his left wing just... there was nothing. No feeling, no pain, or pleasure when Derek traced his wings across it. Nothing. It was terrifying.

 

He was terrified of never being able to feel anything in it again, of not being able to fly again or wrap his wings around Derek again. He hated it, he hated the alphas for doing this to him, and that stupid cursed thing for starting it, and himself for not being stronger. If he was just a little stronger... maybe this wouldn't have happened, maybe he would've spent that night curled up with Derek, wings blanketing them both, maybe the both of them sleeping all through the night instead of waking up from nightmares or watching over the other.

 

He felt Derek squeeze his hand, and he squeezed his eyes shut, willing himself not to cry or scream or something.

 

He listened to Deaton, the vet's careful words about the condition of the wing, how it was healing well, but the lack of movement concerned him. How the break might've damaged something deeper that they didn't know about. Avoiding the topic of how Stiles may never be able to move his wing again.

 

He was silent, walking with Derek without really watching to see where they went. He let Derek move him into the car, let the alpha coddle him and tried not to flinch away from Derek's hand as he gently stroked down the wing, sucking away some of the pain. He stared out the window in continued silence as they drove, leaving the town and driving further into the preserve, until they stopped in front of the Hale house.

 

Derek stepped out, walking around to the other side as Stiles didn't move, and helped him out. Stiles felt his healthy wing twitch when Derek's fingers brushed over it when the alpha curled an arm around behind his back, but the other one stayed completely, terrifyingly still. Stiles felt his stomach turn and he paused, tugging Derek to a stop as he closed his eyes and swallowed down the feeling of nausea.

 

“Stiles? Stiles, what's wrong?” Derek seemed to be going into panic mode, swinging around so he was in front of Stiles, bracing him with hands on both arms, voice trembling just enough for Stiles to tell. “What is it?”

 

Stiles swallowed, and blurted it out, what he'd been fearing the most ever since he woke up. “What if... What if I can't ever move it again?” Stiles opened his eyes slowly, taking in Derek's worried expression, concentrating on those blue-gray eyes as panic crept up through his body, a feeling of dread and anxiousness clamping tight around his lungs, making it more difficult to breathe. “What... Derek, what if I can't ever fly again? It's my only safe place. If someone's after me I can't run away, they'll catch me on the ground. If I can't fly I'm... I'm dead. I can't get to you if your in trouble. I wouldn't be able to save you. Derek, I... Why won't it move? Why isn't it moving if it's healing well? Why isn't it moving, Derek? Why?!”

 

Stiles felt the world around him tilt and spin, and that nausea finally overcame him as he collapsed, legs giving out from under him. He never felt the hard ground beneath him, just a pair of strong hands guiding him slowly to his knees, rubbing his back as he heaved, tears burning in his eyes, his throat stinging from stomach acid when there was nothing else left in his stomach to expel.

 

When Stiles regained consciousness, he was laying on the couch in the living room, changed into a pair of loose sweats with a soft plush blanket draped over him and a bucket pulled up next to him. A few feet away was Derek, changed into more comfortable clothes and looking freshly showered. He was rolling a bottle of water between his hands, and next to him he had a bottle of mouthwash.

 

Stiles blinked slowly, his eyes not quite wanting to cooperate yet, and cleared his throat. “You... cleaned me up.”

 

Derek nodded, then held out the mouthwash without a word. It already tasted a little bit like Derek had cleaned out his mouth, judging from the faint taste of mint, but he swished it around anyway. He spit it into the bucket and took the water when Derek offered that, swallowing down around half of it to soothe the lingering burn of his throat.

 

“I'll keep you safe if... if that does happen.” Derek murmured after a few moments of silence passed, his eyes to the ground. “I'll bring all of Beacon Hills down to protect you, if I have to.” Derek reached out, gently taking Stiles hand's in his, squeezing them lightly. The gentleness contradicting the fierceness of his words. “I'll find a way to make you fly away, whatever it takes. If I have to give up everything I have to give you that, I will.” Derek leaned down, pressing his trembling lips to Stiles shaking hands. He drew in a deep, shaking breath, blinking back tears, judging from the added shine to his eyes. “I'll help you through this, however I possibly can. I promise you, I'll be there with you through everything. I'm not ever going to leave you, no matter what.”

 

Stiles swallowed around the lump in his throat, trying and failing to keep his hands from shaking as Derek spoke. “I...” He swallowed again, his voice cracking, and shook his head. “Thank you...” He dropped to the floor, ignoring the loud thumping sound of the bottle hitting the floor, and pulled Derek into his arms, feeling relief flood through him as the wolf pulled him tight to his chest in return. They knelt there together, in the middle of the living room at the Hale house, that was slowly coming back together piece by piece into a real home, just breathing each other in.

 

It still made Stiles sick just to think about losing his wings, losing that feeling when he soared through the sky, losing a part of his constant companion since he was so young. But... he felt like maybe he could get through it, maybe, with Derek's help, his mate's help, he could get through it.


	28. Chapter 28

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Derek tries to find a way to help Stiles fly again.

It'd been two weeks since the last check up with Deaton. The one where they were both told that Stiles' wing was healing well, but he might not have feeling in it for a long time, if ever again. Hearing those words sent a cold all the way through Derek's body. It was like he was back in school, being pulled out of class, being told his house had been burned down, with his family inside of it. His mate was hurt, to the point that he could be paralyzed in that part of his body. It hurt him, felt like his insides had been frozen over and shattered.

 

He'd taken it on himself to care for Stiles since then. He'd massage his shoulders, keeping the muscles moving while Stiles couldn't, as Deaton suggested. He held the boy when he got that faraway look in his eyes, and when he trembled and his breaths stuttered in his sleep from nightmares. He sometimes would get out of the bed to research, looking up treatments for damaged wings in birds, all the various ways people had made to help with flight when the creature couldn't do it by itself anymore. He looked through harness designs and even half-cracked theories on gaining human flight.

 

He'd still work on the house at times, too, when Stiles needed some space. Usually Stiles would catch up on all the homework he'd been missing from the days he'd taken off since the attack, or he'd be in the finished room in the basement with Scott and Isaac. Sometimes, Stiles would wander up, find Derek in whatever room he was working on that week, and watch, taking in how the scorched, ruined walls transformed.

 

There'd be others, where he'd sneak off outside, not going too far, just enough to not wake Stiles, and close enough so he could still hear his heartbeat and soft breaths as he slept, and work outside. He worked the warm, soft leather, punching holes in the straps in front, working a small buckle on the opposite one. He connected wire and leather and metal together until it formed a rough outline of Stiles' large wing, testing how it moved as he tugged at a handle on the front of the harness. It was crude, but he would make it work.

 

Tonight was one of those nights he worked on the harness. He was testing the flapping mechanism in it, when he felt a gentle breeze behind him, and the now familiar scent of illness. There was a pause as he settled on the ground, stretching his legs out to balance the harness as he pulled the release handle on the front of it, watching as it moved. He'd have to figure out an easier way to move it than the pull lever, but for now it was what he had.

 

The cursed angel made a soft sound, then stepped around to his front. It reached out, then paused, not quite touching. It frowned, before it hovered it's hands over the wing, and then to the giant gap in the back of the harness where the other wing would go through.

 

He frowned, looking up at it, and it shrugged. Then it tilted it's head as it looked over the harness, and straightened up. It held it's hand up above the base of the harness and made a soft clicking sound as it pulled it's hand up about an inch with each click. Derek stared for a moment, trying to comprehend what it was trying to get across, then he nodded. He could make another mechanism, that would shift the wing a certain way when the lever was pressed a certain way.

 

It sat back on it's heels, then smiled softly at him. It wasn't was intimidating now, even with the black-stained teeth that were jagged and broken, like it'd been hit in the mouth. After a few visits from it, and it had actually helped him with the harness and pointed Derek to certain herbs or artifacts to help Stiles. He knew maybe he shouldn't but... he trusted it.

 

He paused a moment, looking up at it. Now that he actually looked it over there was something just slightly familiar about it. Something he couldn't place, no matter how much he looked for it. The angel tilted it's head at him, blinking and giving him another small little smile. That was it. That smile. It was... so familiar but... how?

 

“Derek?”

 

Derek jumped when he heard Stiles' voice and scrambled to put away the harness, careful not to damage it. When he gathered himself up, the angel was gone, leaving only a blackened piece of land where it was kneeling. Derek huffed and looked up to their bedroom window. He couldn't see Stiles through it, but he could hear him, soft breaths letting him know that the boy was awake, and rustling of sheets as he sat up, calling for his mate again. Derek ran into the house, taking care not to make too much noise, and rushed up the stairs. He walked into the bedroom, his heart thumping in his chest with Stiles when the boy looked up at him with a sleepy whine.

 

“What is it?”

 

Stiles flushed and dropped his eyes to the blanket for a moment, then looked back up. “I... Could we... maybe...”

 

Stiles trailed off, and Derek smiled softly, walking across the room to settle in the bed next to Stiles. “Could we what, Stiles?”

 

The boy turned a deeper red and whined, falling into Derek's body, clinging to him and nuzzling his face into his neck. Derek made a soft sound and curled his arms around Stiles' back, lightly kneading the stretch of sensitive skin between his shoulder blades, finger tips just grazing feathers. “Tell me...” Derek muttered, his lips pressed to Stiles' temple.

 

Stiles let out a breath, shifting so his mouth was pressed to Derek's skin as he spoke. He could feel more than hear Stiles words as he asked. “I know you wanted to wait but... I, I need you... I need something, Derek.” He huffed, breath wet and warm as Derek's body flushed with heat at his mate's words. “Please, could... could we...”

 

Derek hummed, nipping as his mate's skin, cutting off the rest of his words with a soft gasp. He had wanted to wait, and honestly, they didn't have too much longer to wait, just another month an a half or so. But... he could figure out something. Derek dipped down, nuzzling into Stiles' throat, nipping at the skin there, too. He watched as a soft red mark bloomed up, even just from the light pressure his teeth left. He rubbed against it, irritating the skin further from his stubble before he nipped again, a little harder, feeling Stiles arch up into him with a whimpering sound.

 

“Derek... Please...” Stiles begged, and Derek relented. He dragged one hand slowly down Stiles' stomach, feeling the muscles clench underneath his touch, then traced his fingers over Stiles hardening erection. He barely touched, but it was enough to have Stiles surging up, grunting like he'd had all the air knocked out of him.

 

“Shh... I'll get you there. Just be patient.” Derek admonished, pushing Stiles' hips back into the bed. Stiles groaned, then gasped when Derek traced figures between his wings, skirting at the base of them, catching soft down and sensitive muscle with the rough pad of his fingers. Stiles turned his head to the side, exposing his neck, chuckling breathlessly when Derek growled, his eyes flashing a deep crimson red.

 

The wolf took control, then, Derek ducking down to bite into Stiles' exposed skin, making the angel moan loudly, his hips pumping up into Derek's. He rumbled, shoving Stiles' sleep-bottoms out of the way, hard enough for them to rip at the seams, and gripped around Stiles' cock, pumping it and thumbing at the head, until Stiles gave a low, pained sounding grunt, and warm cum was pumping out across Derek's knuckles.

 

He gave a pleased rumble, waiting until Stiles looked up to him to bring his spunk covered hand up to his lips to lick it up. Stiles moaned, then scrambled at Derek's jeans. He managed after a few seconds to pry them open with his orgasm clumsy fingers and immediately wrapped his fist around Derek. The wolf growled, humping into the angels grip, licking around lengthened canines to taste the cooling cream on his knuckles. He was suckling one of his clawed fingers clean when Stiles found the sensitive bundle of nerves right under the head of his cock and he growled, cumming all over Stiles' hand and stomach.

 

Afterward, when Derek had licked Stiles cleaned, still seeing everything in red, feeling his features slowly shift back to normal, Derek curled Stiles up into his arms, pressing his face into the younger boy's neck and breathing him in as he slowly regained control of himself. Stiles raised a shaky hand up to his hair, stroking gently through it. “Thank you...” Stiles muttered, feeling more relaxed under Derek's attention than he'd felt in days, his limbs all loose and his heart thumping steadily, at a sure and smooth pace rather than quickened and uneven as Derek had been familiar with.

 

Derek rumbled, licking gently at Stiles' throat, tongue catching on the patch of a bruise he'd made earlier, teeth marks just deep enough to draw little lines of blood. After another few minutes, Stiles was asleep, and Derek watched as the sun rose up behind him, painting the room and his angel's face with warm, golden-orange light. He soon followed his mate into sleep, sure that he was safe, sure that Stiles was better and that he was taking care of him, just as he should.

 

 

Outside the window, the broken angel settled down onto the tree overlooking the bedroom. She watched them carefully, taking in how Derek held Stiles like he was protecting him from the entire world, like he'd bite and tear apart anything the deemed to hurt him. With a little smile, she flew up.

 

She was never quite sure if Stiles would be completely safe with the wolf. She'd known wolves, she'd been around them for the past ten years, she'd known what they were capable of. Speaking with Derek, and seeing how the wolf reacted around him, she was sure. Genim would be safe in his hands.

 

She landed, wincing as her wings bent and creaked, and she spit out the excess blood pooling in her mouth, grimacing at the taste of illness and darkness that she should've been used to now. With a sigh, she walked into the abandoned building, where the alpha's were, head bowed and giving of a submissive aura, despite wanting to maul them all, and winced as she was immediately beaten down, not letting out a cry even as her wing snapped painfully against the wall, breaking even further.

 

“You let him get away.” The wolf growled, eyes a dangerous red, voice rough and animalistic as a clawed foot slashed across her chest. She took it, keeping quiet. The wolf growled more at her silence and whipped her across the room. She sagged in relief as he chased after her again, glad her silence angered him, drew him away from trying to capture Genim again. She would keep him safe like this, keep him from having to endure what she has. She would die, if she had to, to keep him away from this.

 

 _After all._ She though as her ribs cracked under another assault, closing her eyes, enraging the alpha further. _What else was a mother to do, if she couldn't protect her son?_


	29. Chapter 29

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles has a dream of his mother, Derek and Stiles decide it's time to prepare the spell for Derek.

“Genim...” Stiles stirred, unused to the hearing his name, grimacing as he buried his face into his pillow. “Genim, sweetie. Wake up. I have something to tell you...”

 

Stiles blinked. Wait. No, it... it couldn't be... “Mom?”

 

“That's right, Genim. Now, open your eyes.”

 

He was scared. He... he didn't want to hear his mom's voice, after so many years of not hearing it, not being able to see her or cling to her when he wanted to, and not have her actually be there. He didn't want this to be some cruel dream. “Genim, please. Look at me.”

 

Stiles swallowed, and opened his eyes, looking up.

 

There was his mom but... she was off. Just slightly. She looked haggard, thin to the point her ribs showed through her tattered and black stained shirt, and she had large white wings stretched out behind her, but they were damaged, broken. She smiled at him the same, though, bright and powerful, like the summer sun. She reached out, brushing a thumb down along his cheek, wiping away tears he hadn't realized he'd cried. “That's my boy... My beautiful son.” She whispered, then knelt in front of him, brushing a hand gently through his hair, making his breath catch because he hadn't felt his mother's touch for so long. He'd missed her so much.

 

“M-Mom...” He sobbed and she shushed him, tracing her skinny fingers down along his face. “I... Where'd you go, mom? Why didn't you come back?” He sobbed again, reaching out for her. She grabbed his hand, lacing their fingers together, and leaned down, kissing his forehead like she always did before she was gone. “Was it, was it something I did, mom? Was that why you didn't come home?”

 

“Oh Genim, sweetie...” She cooed, shaking her head. “No. Nothing you could ever do could ever make me leave.” She looked over him. “I missed so much... You've grown so big and strong.” She traced her fingers along his injured wing and... he could feel it. He could feel her touch and... it-it moved. He sobbed again, feeling too much, overwhelmed by everything. “I wished so much I could be back with you, and with your father. I never wanted to leave you. I want you to know that.” She pressed their forehead together, both hands cradling his head, rubbing gently into the dip behind his ears. “I loved you both so much, and I still do. I'm trying so hard to get back to you but there's... there's a problem. Mommy's trying to get back but it's hard. I promise one day you'll see me again. I promise you.”

 

Then, Stiles felt a tugging sensation in his chest, and when he looked up, he could see through his mom, like a ghost, like she wasn't actually there, and he panicked. “No, no. Mom. Mommy, please, don't leave me again, please. Please stay, please!”

 

She pulled back and gave him a soft, sad smile as she faded even more. “I'm sorry, Genim, but mommy has to go now.” She reached down to grab his hands and squeezed tightly. “I'll come back to you, soon, Genim, I promise. Soon.”

 

 

Stiles jolted awake, looking around the room frantically, already well aware that it was too late. He sagged in disappointment and squeezed his eyes shut, trying to stop the tears from coming.

 

“Stiles?” Derek muttered sleepily, sitting up slowly. “What's wrong?”

 

Stiles took a deep breath and gave Derek a strained smile. “It's nothing. I'm... I'm fine.” He settled back down into the bed and pulled Derek down to him, ignoring the way the wolf was frowning at him. “Just... bad dream, is all...”

 

Derek's frown deepened, but he didn't press the matter more. He just settled down beside Stiles and curled his arms tightly around him. Stiles let out a shuddering breath, and gripped onto Derek as tight as he could. He couldn't have Derek disappear on him, too, just like... just like his mom did ten years ago and just then. He couldn't, he'd break. So he'd hold onto Derek as tight as he possibly could to stop that from ever happening.

 

Derek seemed to know exactly what he was thinking, because soon the wolf pulled him closer, turning them so Derek was caging Stiles in with his body, touching him on every inch of his body. He pressed their mouths together lightly and nuzzled against him, leaning down to whisper to the angel. “I'm not going anywhere. I promise.”

 

Stiles' eyes filled with tears at the familiar words, but he didn't speak. He just held on tighter, pressing his face to Derek's chest, listening to the steady heart beat inside, concentrating on it and Derek's warmth to help him remember that Derek was still there, that he'd still be there even when Stiles closed his eyes.

 

 

The next day found Stiles in the middle of the living room, drawing the symbol for Derek over and over again, surrounded by pages of it. He had it pretty much perfect every time now, meaning that soon he'd have the means to protect Derek more efficiently. He felt his wing twitch behind him, and paused. His wing moved in the dream... he could actually feel it move. But... after, when he tried for hours while Derek fell back to sleep, it didn't move, didn't even twitch, no matter how he tried. He couldn't feel anything in it. It was frustrating.

 

He frowned down at the circle on his paper, wondering just what his dream meant. Why, after so long, would he dream of his mom again? And why would she say what she did? Usually, right after she died, he always had dreams of her, but nothing like this. In his dreams before she'd hold him, the both of them quiet, maybe sometimes she'd hum to him or card her fingers through his feathers but that'd be it. Maybe... Maybe she's... alive?

 

He shook the thought out of his head before it could take too much of a hold. He didn't want to get his hopes up. With a huff, he continued drawing, taking his time to get every piece right. Once he was done he pulled back, examining it closely, making sure there were absolutely no mistakes.

 

After finding no possible flaws in his work, he pulled his phone out, scrolling through his contacts until he got to Deaton's number. He called it and, upon getting the vet's voice mail, he started speaking. “Deaton, it's Stiles. I was wondering if you could get to work on that special project we'd talked about. I think I'm ready.”

 

With that, he hung up, and flipped away the page, starting the outline of the same symbol again. He was going to get as much practice for it as he possibly could before he had to do it for real on Derek.

 

Speaking of... Stiles turned, smiling when he saw Derek padding out of the bedroom. After their little tossle in the sheets and the quick nap afterward, Derek had changed into a pair of low-hanging sweats that fit him perfectly, revealing a little bit of the thin trail of hair on the alpha's navel. Derek grinned at him, scratching a hand through his already messy hair as he moved into the kitchen, probably following the scent of coffee there. Stiles shook his head and returned to his drawing.

 

He lost a little track of time then, concentrating too deeply into making the lines perfect and making sure all the right details were there, that when Derek crawled up behind him, and curled loosely around him, he jumped.

 

Derek chuckled softly, pressing a kiss to Stiles' neck. “Morning.”

 

Stiles hummed, dropping the drawing and tilting his head back to connect their mouths. The kiss was slow, languid and flowing, easy and lazy like this morning. When they finally pulled apart Stiles smiled into Derek's mouth, scratching his fingers gently through the little soft hairs at the base of Derek's neck. “Morning...”

 

The alpha gave him a goofy grin and looked over Stiles shoulder, taking in the many drawings around them. He hummed, then made a small, sort of strangled sound. “Stiles.” He said, sounding like he just realized something important. “There's probably... other angels that got injured like this, right?” Stiles blinked, turning back to the wolf, shrugging his shoulders and nodding slowly. “You think maybe there's something we could find to help with the healing? Maybe someone else came up with something to help them move again.”

 

Stiles paused a moment, then nodded. “Maybe.” He wiggled out of Derek's arms and stood up, stretching out his numb legs and his wings. “Worth a look.”

 

The two bounded upstairs, pulling out the book Deaton had given him and scoured over it, looking for any hint of what to do for a paralyzed wing, like Stiles had. They spent a good few hours, and eventually Deaton called to set up a time to get the ink from him, and Stiles called it quits. He frowned, his healthy wing twitching irritably.

 

Derek sighed, squeezing Stiles' hand in his. “We'll figure something out eventually.” He leaned across the bed to the angel, nipping his his pouting lip. “I promised, remember?” He reminded with a playful little grin.

 

Stiles huffed, but he smiled. He knew it was silly to get his hopes up but... he believed Derek would eventually find something. Somehow, he just knew. “Yeah.” He narrowed his eyes at Derek then, trying to figure out a way to take the conversation off of the sensitive topic, then grinned, his eyes settled on Derek's chest. “That tattoo is gonna look so good on you...”

 

Derek flushed but smirked. “Yeah?” He stretched out, and Stiles followed him as he slowly reclined until he was leaning back on his elbows, chest rising with every breath. “It's probably gonna be real sensitive afterward, you know.” Derek grinned when Stiles let out a little groan, tracing his fingers lightly along the arch of Stiles' wing, making him shudder. “Maybe like this, where I can't help but shiver anytime you even so much as graze it.” He paused a moment, tracing circles into the feathers as his expression shifted from teasing to curious. “Since you're transferring magic into me, would you be transferring that same sort of bond into it? Like how they're only sensitive like this when I touch them, would the tattoo be the same?”

 

Stiles paused, halfway bent down over Derek's throat, and pulled back. “I dunno.” He grinned, licking his lips, giddily watching as Derek's eyes traced the path of his tongue. “We'll just have to find out, won't we?”

 

Derek hummed, his pupils blowing up until his eyes were practically black, just a small sliver of red around the edges as his fangs lengthened in his mouth, the wolf rumbling out a growl just before he flipped them over and dove in, sucking and nipping marks all along the angels shoulders and throat.

 

Stiles gladly returned the favor until Derek was just as marked up and messy with bruises as he was, then he giggled as he rocked his hips up into Derek's, the wolf whining and unable to decide if he wanted to arch into them or away.

 

In the end, about an hour later found the couple curled up together for an afternoon nap, both sticky and exhausted from their respective orgasms.

 

 

It was many hours later, all light gone with the new moon. A hunter was moving through the preserve, flashlight in hand but turned off, and a shotgun in the other. He frowned as he saw an odd patch of ground, burned and dead. Kneeling down, he ran his fingers over the dead grass, and quickly drew his hand back when it stung, like he'd just touched a flash rather than a blade of grass.

 

Behind him, dead, golden eyes flashed open, and large, white wings, stained with black, stretched open. The creature bent down above the hunter, mouth cracking open, groaning.

 

The hunter sprung up, spinning around to shoot whatever creature was behind him, but he didn't get the chance. The gun was yanked out of his hands as the creature shot a hand up, some force ripping it from his grip. It tilted it's head as he dug out a knife, and then grinned as it leapt at the hunter, long arms with long, dirty fingers stretching out and grabbing the man by the throat.

 

The hunter screamed, only for a second, before it was suddenly cut off, the silence that followed eerie and unnatural. The angel with dead, yellow eyes gave a satisfied hiss as it dropped the hunter's body to the ground, his blood on it's hands, his body a grayed husk of dried skin and bone. It was just turning to leave, when it caught the scent of something familiar. A creature like what it used to be. An angel, uncorrupted.

 

The creature grinned, slowly, and gracefully rose up into the sky. It would have a new toy, soon.

 


	30. Chapter 30

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles marks Derek and they discover a few of the advantages to Derek being marked with Stiles' magic.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the delay on this chapter, new job has been a bit difficult to get used to. Might come late next week, too, but hopefully I can get back on track and have these updated by Thursday/Friday again. :P

Derek leaned back into the soft chair moved to the center of the den, his eyes closed as he listened to Stiles and Deaton move around him. He was calm, breathing even and slow. He'd been reassured that the tattoo would stay; unlike regular ink, this was imbued with an herb blend ages old used in angel magics, and it had a great deal of magic going into it. And, the pain would be minimal, just a gentle stinging sensation, like a mild sunburn.

 

He let out a gentle breath, and peeked an eye open. Deaton was just handing off the bottle of ink to Stiles, who was settled into a stool pulled up by the seat, and needle gun in his hands. “It should heal fine on it's own after you're done, no need for ointments or any sort of first aid for it. Just try not to irritate the skin around it for twenty-four hours.” He paused, grabbing up his bag that had all the tools Stiles was now holding in his hands and spread out on a table dragged over by them, then nodded and turned to leave.

 

Stiles waited until the door clicked shut then turned to Derek, letting out a breath. “Ready?”

 

Derek gave Stiles a soft smile and nodded. “Yeah.” He reached over, squeezing Stiles' fingers softly. “Relax.”

 

Stiles' lips twitched along with his wing, then he drew in a deep breath, holding it for a few moments before he breathed out again, giving Derek a pointed look. Derek rolled his eyes and settled back into the chair, relaxing his body and closing his eyes.

 

Stiles' hand brushed up against his chest after a few minutes of rustling, and Derek restrained the urge to push into his touch. There was a soft click, then a buzzing sound, and Derek felt the first sting of the needle, followed immediately by a rush of power. He held his breath, feeling magic spark across his skin, sink bone deep into him, Stiles' presence something in that moment completely melded with his.

 

“Oh.” Derek breathed, opening his eyes, looking up to Stiles. His lips were moving, and the wolf could hear the angel muttering something, softly, the words sounding like a jumble of vowels and breathy sighs. Stiles' eyes were shifting from their usual brown to a sort of golden color, metallic and bright, unreal. Derek watched, amazed, the faint hurt secondary to watching Stiles.

 

As the angel kept drawing his mark into Derek, he could feel more magic sinking into him, controlled and concentrated, growing hot and pulsing in his chest. His wolf arched up into it, practically purring at the feel of it, the feel of Stiles' magic stroking through his fur, making his tongue loll and his legs ache to run howling through the woods.

 

After a few minutes, another surge of energy crashed over him, stronger than the last two. He heaved in a breath, fighting himself to keep from arching up into Stiles like he so wanted. Derek squeezed his eyes shut, the sensations running through him too much all at once; the primal urges of his wolf, the feeling of new strength coursing through his blood, of the deep connection with Stiles, deepening with every line he drew into Derek's skin. He felt like he was going to burst from it all.

 

Suddenly Stiles' paused, pulling the needle up with a soft breath. “Am I hurting you?”

 

Derek wanted to laugh. God, no, hurting him? It was the furthest thing from pain. Instead, he swallowed around a dry mouth and shook his head, his voice ragged when he spoke. “No.”

 

Stiles paused another second, then Derek felt him shifting, and... and not even feeling it physically, he could feel Stiles... Stiles aura shifting, his magic moving with his body. Then Stiles chuckled and Derek felt that power spike inside of both of them, along with the sudden burst of Stiles' arousal that tasted like liquid fire across his tongue. Fuck.

 

“Oh.” Stiles said, still chuckling a little. “No, that's... definitely not hurting you.” He could hear Stiles voice drop, and smell and feel his body shifting gears into sex. “We'll take care of that when we're through here, don't worry.” Stiles purred, brushing his fingers gently over the straining erection in Derek's jeans. Derek groaned and dropped his head back, shuddering all over. “I don't have much more to go, just a few touch ups.”

 

Derek nodded, digging his claws into the arm of the chair when Stiles continued tattooing. He didn't even know when he'd shifted, but now that he did he'd realized he'd managed to shift fully into his beta form, and when he tried to shift back the transition was smooth, nearly instant and completely painless whereas before there was a little discomfort as his features moved or grew or shrunk. He wondered if that was because of Stiles' magic, something that came with the variety of spells he was weaving into one mark.

 

Curious, he focused on his senses, to see how much they'd improved. He stretched his hearing as far as he could, and it took him a moment to realize he could hear the sounds of traffic from the city five miles out at most, and he could smell the scent of old stale coffee from the coffee shop a couple of blocks down, and even the scent of pack nearly the same distance away, moving closer, and Deaton moving farther and farther away.

 

Though, his senses weren't improved that much, it was his connection with Stiles that had grown so much, to the point that Derek couldn't quite remember how it felt not to be able to feel everything Stiles felt, to feel Stiles' breaths and, and even feel the steady pace of Stiles' heart in his own chest, like every part of them, every vital organ keeping them alive was connected, helping to keep the other alive, too.

 

Suddenly the buzzing of the tattoo gun died off, and Derek blinked his eyes open. There Stiles was, leaning over him, his eyes fading from that bright, brilliant gold they took on whenever that non-human part of him started to show through a bit more. Stiles let out a breath, his wing sagging behind him, and he traced over the tattoo with his thumb.

 

Derek arched up, feeling like he was being shocked with a thousand volts of electricity, without the pain. No, it just felt... sudden, sharp, like a whip crack against his skin, blooming up heat and a pleasure where Stiles' thumb traced along the line of the circle. Stiles' bit his lip, watching Derek slump back down when he drew his hand back, the wolf nearly slipping out of his chair as he just fell, boneless, feeling like he was falling from the sky back down to earth rather than the few inches into the chair.

 

“God.” Stiles breathed, sounding just as wrecked as Derek felt. “I can... I can feel you. I can feel everything about you.” He set down the gun and moved so he was straddling the alpha. Stiles hesitated a moment, then reached out, touching his palm to the mark, and Derek felt like he was being shoved out of his body only to be shoved right back in through a little hole in his skin. He... he could feel Stiles' presence in him, like Stiles had crawled right in with him, and suddenly his wolf was rearing up, and his features were shifting, his bones rearranging and moving and coarse fur sprouting all over his body. He was shifting into an alpha, for the first time, and he wasn't controlling it.

 

He panicked at first but... nothing happened, the wolf didn't react much past arching up into Stiles' hand, and Stiles stared, his mouth dropped open as he watched.

 

“Did... did I just...”

 

The wolf licked at Stiles fingers, before slipping out of the chair onto the floor. He felt Stiles suddenly sliding out of his body and Derek was back in control. He looked down at paws instead of fingers, and his muzzle felt too long and awkward on his face, and just walking was odd for him. He looked up at Stiles, and then felt something unlocking in his chest before he was melting back into his human form.

 

Derek breathed out, shuddering. Everything was just so intense. He flexed his fingers against the wood and fell back onto his ass from where he was on his hands and knees after the transformation. He gasped softly as Stiles' traced his long fingers along Derek's jaw, lightly scratching through stubble. “I forced you to shift?”

 

Derek shrugged, arching up into Stiles' hand. “You more pulled the wolf out.” He turned his head, licking at Stiles' fingers, still feeling feral, the magic still buzzing under his skin like a living thing, like Stiles was still tucked inside of him. He looked up at Stiles. “You can control it, apparently.”

 

“Part of the spell?”

 

Derek shrugged again; it could've been the spell, or his wolf reacting to Stiles' presence inside of him, along with the magic pulsing through him like blood. He said as much out loud. “I really don't know but... It's not... it wasn't bad.” He tilted his head up, staring directly into Stiles soft human-brown eyes. “It could be useful.” He added. “I felt so much more powerful in that moment, with you guiding the wolf out, putting your magic behind it. If we need that extra strength, we can use it.”

 

Stiles nodded, then glanced down to the mark, dropping his hand from Derek's stubble. “It actually worked...”

 

Derek rumbled out a growl of pleasure when Stiles' stroked over the tattoo again, watching the boy's lips twitch when he arched up into it. Stiles licked his lips then slid out of his seat, kneeling in front of Derek. He leaned forward, pressing their mouths together, the sensation of them melded together making his head buzz.

 

Along with his own arousal, Derek could feel Stiles', hot like a furnace that was steady and constantly building up heat, until it felt like flames were licking across Derek's skin, making him pant with need when they pulled apart.

 

Stiles looked over Derek, his mouth open and wet, hand resting gently against the tattoo. Slowly, Derek felt more magic seeping into him through their bond, sensitive and delicious, making him gasp and arch up into Stiles. Stiles eyes slowly faded from their usual chestnut brown to that golden color, glittering as the angel looked over him, the scent of his arousal thick and heavy and sickeningly sweet in the room.

 

They both jumped when the door slammed open, Isaac and Scott tumbling in. Stiles scrambled off of Derek where he was straddling the alpha, and... Derek didn't remember when exactly they'd gotten into that position. Isaac paused when he entered the room, then wrinkled his nose and brought his shirt up to cover his face, while Scott made a sound like he was dying and just spun around on his heel to leave, complaining loudly about how the two of them could never keep it in their pants.

 

Stiles cleared his throat, blinking the gold out of his eyes, the magic fading from Derek's body in a slow, steady trickle of energy. “So did you... did you guys find anything?”

 

Isaac, used to their near constant states of arousal around one another, shrugged and answered from behind his shirt. “No, no sign of the alphas. The only thing was a bit of fresh blood by the entry way but their trail disappeared after that. Hopefully they moved out of the county, and not just the building.”

 

Stiles huffed. “Unlikely.” He glanced down to Derek. “With our luck they're still in town, doubling their numbers somehow. Maybe raising the dead, since they seem to be so good at that.” He grumbled, then turned to Derek. “We have a bit of an advantage now, though, I guess.”

 

Derek nodded slowly, sliding his hands up along Stiles' back as he did. Stiles lips twitched into a small little smile, but he didn't say anything else. Isaac coughed and looked away from them, muttering something about going to check on Scott.

 

Derek didn't pay much more attention to anything else after the beta left, instead, all his attention was settled on his mate. His mate who was sitting on top of him, smiling down at him, his eyes in a sort of limbo between his human brown and the supernatural gold. Stiles moved his good wing to drape around them, the feathers tickling Derek's skin as they did. Stiles' mark throbbed pleasantly when the soft down skimmed over his neck and he bit down on a moan. He wondered if it was just as sensitive as Stiles' wings, if it would react like this anytime Stiles even touched him, like now.

 

The wolf arched up into the smaller boy, closing his eyes as a pleased growl rumbled through him. Stiles chuckled softly, then leaned down over Derek. His soft, full lips brushed over Derek's ear, making the alpha gasp and his hands dig into Stiles' skin, then Stiles spoke, running his hand gently over the tattoo.

 

“Just think of tonight... when we'll test to see just how sensitive it is.” He huffed out a small laugh, scraping a nail over the lines of ink, making Derek whimper, pleasure racking his body. “See just how much you can take before you go _crazy_.”

 

“Um.” Isaac yelled out, and the two froze again. “I think it's time we get going and let you two get back to your... your...” The beta choked up and then the two boys scrambled away, like Derek and Stiles just couldn't wait one more little second to have each other.

 

Stiles snorted, beaming down at the alpha as he shook his head at the beta's behavior. His eyes almost instantly fell on his mark, his grin widening just enough for Derek to notice, and his fingers tracing over it again. Derek groaned, dropping his head back into the chair, arching up into his touch slightly.

 

Stiles licked his lips, then pulled his hand away, giving Derek a shy little smile. “Sorry. I... I just like seeing you with this...” He glanced down to the mark again, licking his lips, like he wanted to taste it. Derek shuddered at the thought of it. “It's like a constant reminder that you're mine now, a _permanent_ reminder.” Stiles muttered reverently, his hand going right back to touch despite pulling away just seconds before.

 

Derek hummed, closing his eyes and letting Stiles touch the mark, shivering at every little brush of skin against it. He smiled to himself as he started to drift a little bit under Stiles attention. He'd return the favor of marking up Stiles one of these days. Decorate Stiles' throat and collar with bites, mark him dark purple and beautiful, all _his_.


	31. Chapter 31

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long wait. New job is taking up nearly all my time now. I'm going to try and get back on track soon. :(

Derek traced the darkening marks along the back of Stiles' neck while the boy slept, a small smile on his face as he did. He still felt shaky, like his entire body was vibrating still from the intensity of his three orgasms that Stiles had wrung out of him, solely by lavishing all his attention on the mark that throbbed on his chest.

 

Stiles' wing twitched, before it tucked around Stiles' body like a blanket, exposing the hickeys and teeth marks even more for the alpha. He rumbled in appreciation and licked across them, chuckling when Stiles squirmed in his sleep, smacking his lips and making little pleased huffing sounds.

 

Derek was able to sit and admire his mate in the early morning light for a few more seconds, before he could sense something approaching, something not pack, and something dark.

 

The alpha growled, smelling that same sick scent he'd been expecting to come around for a while that hadn't, but this... this was different. This thing wanted to hurt them, he could feel it. He felt a spike of heat rush through his chest and he shook Stiles awake, glad when the angel woke completely alert. Stiles sat straight up, head tilted in the direction the threat was coming from, then he snatched his phone off the floor where it'd fallen off in the night and dialed Scott while Derek hopped off the bed and let himself bleed into his alpha form, feeling his bones and muscles shift underneath his darkening skin.

 

“There's something coming.” Stiles explained when Scott finally picked up. “Something bad. Not like the alphas, it's not a wolf. I don't know what it is, Scott, but it's coming here and it feels malicious. Just get here with the others ready to kill something.”

 

Then Stiles hung up, and looked up to Derek. “Do you want me to stay?”

 

Derek answered with a growl. Of course not. Stiles was already injured. There was no way he was going to let anything hurt him ever again. He was going to get Stiles safe and locked away from whatever creature had dropped in to harm them this time. Stiles sighed, but nodded, gathering up a small pouch that contained that same herb mix Deaton had made to ward off the cursed angel from before. “If anything goes wrong, I'm going to be coming up here.” Stiles warned, just before he was racing out the door and down the stairs into the basement.

 

The wolf felt his chest rumble with a growl, and he faced the windows, where he could feel the creature drawing closer. He felt his fur stand on end, his claws and teeth growing hot with the urge to rip apart this thing encroaching on his territory with the intention to harm his mate. Derek waited, until he could see the dark form of the creature drawing closer, and closer, until it dropped down just below the wall of windows in the bedroom, falling below to the first floor, closer to where Stiles was.

 

Derek snarled, bounding down the hall and down the stairs. He was just descending into the den when the door blew inside, skidding across the floor until it smashed into the wall right infront of the alpha. He dodged it, moving back just for a moment before he leaped forward, spinning around to face the creature, letting out a roar that rattled the walls when he saw it.

 

He was tall, broad, wide-spread wings stretched behind him, his features sunken in, and clothes tattered and stained with blood. His eyes were golden, but nothing like what Derek had seen with the other angels he'd met; there eyes had nothing behind them, they were absent of any emotion or feeling. The sight of the man had Derek's hackles rising.

 

The man tilted his head, mouth opened slightly, like a snake scenting the air for prey, then he smirked. Derek growled when the man lifted his hand up to the alpha, and he lunged when the man moved.

 

Derek felt a sharp, sudden pain bloom through the side of his head, his neck snapping back and his body suddenly flying through the air. His back hit the wall, hard, and he let out an involuntary whimper, ducking his head down to cover his muzzle with a large paw. The man simply smirked at him again, and started moving toward the basement stairs, where Stiles was hiding.

 

Derek growled, surging up, ignoring the pain radiating from his jaw when it moved, and leaped to the angel again, swiping at him with his claws. He felt the give of flesh under his nails, and there was a quick moment of relief, that Derek had gotten into him as much as the man had him, but then it was gone. The smirk melted off the man's face, replaced with a dark look, his eyes going a molten gold, and he grabbed Derek's paw. Derek gritted his teeth as his hand was crushed, the pain making him cry out as he shifted back to human.

 

He fell to the floor, holding his broken hand to his stomach, the pain of the bones settling back into place just as bad as the break. His vision wavered as he forced himself back up, back in the path of the angel, growling, baring his fangs and brandishing his good set of claws. He was not going to let this thing get to Stiles. Even if it killed him. He would protect Stiles with his last dying breath.

 

The angel hissed at him, wings spreading out wide enough to fill the room, and it almost seemed like the light was being sucked out of the room, the angel seemed to be getting taller, more intimidating. Derek didn't move, didn't flinch at all, just growled, flashing his alpha red eyes at the creature, ready to lunge and bite and rip him apart.

 

The angel huffed, sneering at him in disgust. It's eyes flashed golden, then it swung out. Derek felt a hard pressure in his chest, like a kick, and he was flying off to the side, back crashing into the wall with a painful crack that had him crying out. He looked up through blurred vision, seeing the angel coming towards him, away from the basement stairs. _Good. If I can distract him... then maybe Stiles can get away..._

 

The angel took one more step towards him, before the door to the basement was blasting off it's hinges, rocketing across the floor straight into the angel, knocking him out of the way. Derek looked up, seeing Stiles storming up from the stairs, eyes glowing gold and the strong scent of magic practically pouring off of him in waves.

 

_No. No, no, no, no, no._ Derek was panicking. He didn't want Stiles involved in the fight. He doesn't want Stiles hurt, not again.

 

He whipped around when the intruder threw the door off, growling, wiping off the smear of blood from his temple. Just as he was taking a step to move toward them, Stiles shook his head, thrusting his hands out toward the angel, sending him skidding backward like he'd been hit with a brick wall. Every time the angel tried to move, Stiles would knock him back about five feet, again and again. Until Derek could see blood pouring from the angel's nose, and his lip cracked and bleeding down his chin, getting worse as Stiles kept pushing.

 

Finally the angel was pushed up against the windows facing the clearing to the front of the house. Stiles' eyes lit up, almost bright enough to illuminate the room in front of him, and Derek could actually see the magic building up around Stiles' finger tips, swirls and wisps and gold and silver light whirling around his wrists and hands. “No one hurts my mate.” Stiles warned, his voice sounding... odd. Like it was layered with a thousand different other voices. He lifted his hands up, then pushed one last time, magic exploding from his fingertips and sending the angel crashing through the window. Derek could hear him hitting a tree about half a mile out, knocking it and himself to the ground with a crash.

 

Stiles seemed to deflate, shoulders dropping and magic falling away. He let out a breath and turned toward Derek, gold bleeding out of his eyes as he walked toward Derek.

 

“You okay?” Stiles asked, softly, gently touching Derek's shoulder and broken hand.

 

“Fine...” Derek murmured, shifting a little against the wall. He flinched when Stiles' hands lit up with a softer magic, pale silver slithering down his fingertips into Derek's wounds, helping him heal and coating the pain in warmth.

 

Derek relaxed into the wall, staring over Stiles, taking him in. Finally, he cleared his throat. “How...” He swallowed when Stiles' looked up at him, light brown eyes. “How did you do that?”

 

Stiles stared at him for a few moments, then shrugged, dropping his eyes back to his hands. “I don't know.” Stiles let out a breath. “Just, I could feel your pain, and I just... _lost_ it.” The magic faded away, the last tendrils of silver bleeding into Derek's skin. Stiles rocked back onto his heels, dropping his hand from Derek's shoulder onto his hip. “I couldn't think of anything else other than _killing_ the person who hurt you.”

 

Derek swallowed, pulling Stiles toward him. Derek curled his arms around him, digging his fingers into Stiles feathers, tucking his face into the boy's neck.  


	32. Chapter 32

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles and Derek recover after their encounter with the enemy angel, and the pack encounters a familiar face in need of help.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahhh! Sorry about being so late and for the short chapter. Work has been crazy, having to cover a lot of shifts for everyone so I haven't really gotten time to do much writing. I'll try to get the next one up sooner. :/

_Stiles rocked back onto his heels, dropping his hand from Derek's shoulder onto his hip. “I couldn't think of anything else other than_ killing _the person who hurt you.”_

 

_Derek swallowed, pulling Stiles toward him. Derek curled his arms around him, digging his fingers into Stiles feathers, tucking his face into the boy's neck._

 

 

The two sat there for a few moments, breathing each other in, Derek checking over Stiles for injuries as he held him and Stiles allowing it, tucking a wing carefully around him.

 

It was a few moments of silence, then there was a screeching sound, and a bright burst of light followed by debris flying around them, wood and glass flying into them. Stiles tensed, and Derek watched the magic bleed back into him, eyes going molten gold, before he was lifting away from Derek facing the angel that had come back, now bloody, arm hanging limp at his side, but looking absolutely livid.

 

Stiles' wing twitched out, and then he was lifting his hand up, magic swirling quickly and dangerously around his fist. “I'll give you a chance to leave peacefully.” He warned, watching the angel carefully, the angel watching Stiles' hand like the loaded gun it was. “If you don't, I'm going to rip your wings off, and put my fist through your skull.”

 

Derek felt a shiver run up along his spine, the charge of Stiles magic in the air making his skin pebble up with goosebumps and hair stand on end. Did Stiles' magic become improved after connecting with Derek? Or... or is it just because he was hurt, like Stiles had said? Derek watched, the enemy angel's wings falling and his antagonistic stance falling. He frowned, but backed away, eyes always on Stiles until he was far enough that he could simply kick up off the ground and fly into the air.

 

Stiles waited a few moments then let the magic melt away. He huffed and glanced back to Derek, scratching at the back of his neck. “I... We probably can't stay here tonight...”

 

Derek glanced around; it was true, what was beginning to shape back into a home from the burned remains he'd known for so long, was now wrecked again. Windows broken, walls shattered, doors ripped from their hinges. Derek sighed, and looked up when Stiles' offered him a hand to help him up. He lifted up to his feet and nodded. “We'll get Scott and Isaac to help rebuild tomorrow. For now we can go back to your home.”

 

Stiles nodded, then looked up when the sound of a car's engine cutting off came from the huge hole in the front of the house. Scott and Isaac piled out, Scott's mouth hanging open as he took in the damage. “What happened here? Looks like a war broke out.”

 

Stiles frowned. “Another angel, this one, though, wants to kill us.” He raised his brows at them. “You're late, by the way. Could've used some help.”

 

Just as Derek was thinking over how they could've gotten a hit in with Stiles' continuously attacking it, the two betas ducked their heads. “We got a little tied up.” Isaac answered. Scott seemed to perk up, like he was remembering something and he nodded.

 

“You two need to come with us.” When neither man moved, simply staring at the two betas in confusion, Scott gave a slightly frustrated sigh. “Now, it's important.”

 

 

Following the beta for nearly half an hour found them at the very edge of the preserve, about half a mile from the alpha pack's hideout. They broke through the thick grouping of trees, into a small clearing, where at the center was...

 

Derek's heart dropped at what he saw, that sense of dread and the scent of illness that seemed to get stronger the closer they got making sense when they found the angel that had helped him before with Stiles. She was sitting on the ground, bloody and even more broken than when he'd last seen. She had several deep claw marks running along her arms and torso, and her wing bent at an angle that made his stomach roil.

 

Stiles' breath hitched, and when Derek looked at him he saw the boy was turned away, grimacing. He felt a brief flicker of pain through their connection, and watched as Stiles glanced up to the two betas.

 

Isaac cleared his throat, gesturing to the unconscious angel. “She... she ran into us like this. It was hard to understand most of what she said but we did understand...” Isaac paused, and Scott carried on for him.

 

“She asked for you, Stiles.”

 

 

Stiles looked up between the two of them, then back down to the other angel. He couldn't see her face through the blood and blackness that coated most of her body. He was a little leery of any other angels like him, considering that one had tried to kill them just moments before, and the other one he'd met had been dropping around him everywhere, cursed, nearly driving him crazy with the nearly constant contact of the cursed vibes it always gave off.

 

Still, he didn't have any sort of bad feelings about this, about her, so he stepped forward, glancing back to Derek and feeling a little more relieved when he saw the alpha following closely behind him, keeping a close eye on him and the angel. When he'd gotten just barely close enough he dropped down on his knees beside her, looking over her wounds without touching. He didn't know really why she'd ask for him, unless it was for help, since it was obvious she needed it. He didn't really know much about magic, just what he'd done for Derek. And what he'd done unconsciously, by instinct.

 

Stiles frowned, a little hesitant to to get much closer than he already was. He let out a breath and reached out slowly just barely tapping his fingers to her shoulder.

 

He felt magic snap up out of him, sparks of pale gold light leeching out of his hand into her skin. She lurched forward, gasping and coughing, blackness flying out of her mouth as her eyes rolled back into her head. He could feel the wolves rushing around them, and he could feel the energy he was giving off. He concentrated on that, on that warm feeling of the magic, and tried to think about pushing it into the woman's body, to help her.

 

After a few moments he could feel the air around them becoming lighter, like a thick, black fog that he didn't notice before was lifting, and he when he cut off the trail of magic from his fingertips she slumped back, chestnut brown hair falling into her face and the black coating her skin slowly falling away, cracking off and burning away into ash that disappeared in the wind.

 

Stiles watched, mouth hanging open as piece by piece the blackness fell away, revealing the woman underneath. And... Stiles could feeling Derek coming up behind him as he gasped, tears spilling over his face and throat burning with emotion when he realized just who it was underneath all that blackness.

 

“ _Mom_...?”

 

 


	33. Chapter 33

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles' and Derek find a new ally in the angel's mother; Derek is told a terrible secret in the dark of the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ugh, sorry this took long to update again. Work is being a butt and this past week I've been pretty badly sick. But never fear! I have the next two chapters mostly drawn out, so hopefully I can get some time to write them out.

Eva let out a breath, unhindered for the first time in a long, long time, and opened her eyes to see her son kneeling in front of her, his mate right behind him. She heaved in another breath and smiled tiredly. “Genim, my dear sweet Genim.” She stroked a hand through his hair, wiping away a stray tear from his cheek. “You've grown so much since I last saw you.” She glanced over him, then lightly traced her hands along one of his wings. “And your wings are nice and strong.” She glanced up to the alpha standing behind Genim, who didn't look as surprised as everyone else in the clearing about her identity, more relieved. “And your mate. I could never thank you enough for helping him, and me.”

 

Genim was still sitting there, stunned, tears flowing freely down his face. The alpha nodded, giving her a soft smile that fit a lot more naturally to his face than the scowl she'd usually seen him wear. She smiled back, before dropping her gaze back to her son. “Genim, it's okay.” She rubbed away the tear streaks on his cheeks, leaning forward to press a kiss to his forehead. “I'm here, everything's alright.”

 

Genim blinked once, shaking his head slightly like he was coming out of a dream, then he let out a small sob before falling forward and hugging her. “Mommy...”

 

She smiled, running a hand down along his spine as he cried, letting him let it all out. She pressed one hand gently to his injured wing, letting her weakened magic mend it slightly, renewing broken bone and torn muscle.

 

She could hear his breath stuttering out of him, his wing arching into the touch. She noticed the alpha settling down beside them, and when he noticed her looking he gave her a grateful nod toward Genim's wing.

 

Eva smiled back, then drew the alpha in together with them with one of her large wings and closed her eyes as Genim started to wind down, now just clinging to her desperately. She'd missed this. She'd almost gotten to the point of forgetting it, the corruption so thick and consuming in her mind, but... Genim had shone through that darkness, even brighter when she'd finally found him again.

 

She wasn't going to want to let go of this ever again...

 

 

Things were fairly calm between Evangeline's reawakening to now, Scott and Isaac back at the McCall house after being assured that Stiles was fine, just shocked, and Stiles, Eva and Derek in the Hale house, down in the remodeled basement curled up a spread out blanket by the room heater Derek had brought in not too long ago. How long it'd stay calm, Derek couldn't really say. Maybe for the night, given the angel that had attacked them seemed at least a little bit put off about Stiles' power. Hopefully they'd have the week to prepare, but the alpha knew that was pushing it.

 

Derek looked over to the two angels, taking in how Stiles was curled into Eva, her wings tucked around the younger boy. Her body was still littered with little marks, scars that stretched long and deep like claw marks, large circular shaped scars like there was once a chunk of flesh ripped out by teeth. He could only imagine what the alpha's had done to her, especially if they'd kept her for all the time she'd been missing.

 

Derek felt a growl rumble out of him, unbidden. Eva looked up, dark brown brows raised. The alpha frowned. “We need to get rid of the alpha pack.” He sat up, tucking his legs underneath him as he spoke. “They're going to come back to kill us at some point, and they've already harmed to two of you enough.” He snarled. “I can risk anyone else getting hurt because of them.” Because I wasn't able to stop them.

 

Derek jumped when he felt a hand skim across his thigh. He looked up to see the angel smiling softly at him. “Not everything falls on your shoulders, Hale.” She glanced down to Stiles, who by now was soft asleep, and grinned. “I may not have been here long when that fire happened, but I'd met the angel who took care of you.” Before the alpha could speak she continued, moving her piercing gaze back up to him. “She'd always said you were like that, even before the accident.”

 

Derek stared for a moment, then frowned. “That... it wasn't an accident... I-”

 

Eva hushed him, shaking her head. “I know. And it wasn't you, either.” She paused as he tried, and failed to find words, then finally she opened up her arms. “Come here.”

 

Whining, he obediently crawled under her wing, tucking up next to Stiles. The senior angel clucked her tongue. “I think for now, we all need to rest. Get our heads about us. And then tomorrow we can make a plan.”

 

There was a soft sound from Stiles, then, and the boy shifted, murmuring sleepily as he clutched tighter to the both of them. “You'll... be here still tomorrow...?”

 

Derek felt his heart ache at the words, at how small Stiles' voice was. Eva didn't speak for a few moments, and for once she seemed a little shaken, not calm and collected and cool like Derek had seen her since the curse was sucked out from Stiles' magic. She swallowed heavily, and nodded, clutching Stiles a little tighter. “Yes I will... I promise.”

 

There were a few beats of silence after that, before Stiles' heart evened out again, his breaths falling into gentle snores. Eva didn't speak again, just patted Derek's head as she stared ahead, humming softly.

 

Eventually, wrapped tightly around Stiles, Derek drifted into sleep, the soft sounds of his mates breaths dragging him under, and the soft song the angel's mother sang like a blanket of peace and warmth around them both.

 

 

_Thwip._

 

Derek opened his eyes, to find it was still the middle of the night, and Eva was gone.

 

He sat up, carefully, so not to wake Stiles, and stretched out his senses searching for her, trying to ignore how his stomach sank and how his mind was starting to suggest the worst.

 

“I'm up here.” A soft voice called.

 

Derek looked up toward the bedroom, where the voice came, and he glanced down to Stiles.

 

“It's okay. I can watch him.” Eva's voice came again. “I want to talk, Derek.”

 

Reluctantly, the alpha followed, keeping an ear on his mate as he climbed the stairs quietly up to the top floor. He followed the wreckage from the fight earlier down the hallway to the destroyed bedroom, and inside found Eva sitting on the window sill, staring down at the clearing below, where the crater was left by the crazed angel that had tried to kill them before.

 

“I want them dead.” Her first words were spat out as soon as Derek entered the room. Then she looked back at the alpha, her expression softening slightly. “I... They took so much from me. From my Genim. I thought I'd never get to see my son again.” She closed her eyes. “They're evil. The reasons they're doing this? Turning my kind insane to help them? It's just for power, for territory.” She took a deep breath. “That is not how I was raised. I was raised to slay anything that misused it's gift that way. They turned me...”

 

She trailed off, letting out a huff of a breath, then dropped her head. She waited until Derek was standing closer, before she spoke again, her voice low. “Derek, I... I'm not going to be able to live for much longer.”

 

“Wha-”

 

Eva spun around, snapping her fingers and effectively cutting off the rest of whatever Derek was going to say. She shook her head. “They turned me, Derek. They... they made me fallen.” She sucked in a deep, labored breath. “Once we... once we become cursed, Fallen, there's no turning back. We can be cured for a short period of time but... that taint is always with us. To truly rid it from my soul I have to be reborn. I have to die.” She wiped angrily at the tears on her face and shook her head, seemingly forcing herself to continue. “I'll start to forget things at first; I'll forget what they did to me, I'll forget who you are, _who Genim is_. I don't want that. I want to die... how my ancestors did. In battle, against something evil, that needs to be cleansed from this world.” She looked to Derek, tears making her golden-brown eyes shine a little brighter. “I want you to help me kill the alpha pack, and free any others under their influence, as I was.”

 

Derek blinked, then again when he felt wetness on his face. He swallowed and nodded. “Yes. They... Our tradition's, too. An alpha pack shouldn't exist, and a pack shouldn't fight for the reason's they're fighting.”

 

Eva smiled and stepped up off the sill. She brushed a hand over his cheek and nodded. “Thank you.” She paused a second then cleared her throat. “Don't... tell Genim about this. I'll... I'll tell him in my own time. He should hear it from me.” Derek nodded, and she gave him a little smirk. “I'd love to be able to see the two of you building your own family... I'd give anything...” She trailed off again, sighing and dropping her hand.

 

Derek hesitated, not sure if he should say, but... “If it's anything...” He started, pausing when she looked up. He gave her a small smile. “I would've liked you to be there, too.”

 

Eva's face lit up with a smile, and in that moment he could see Stiles there, in the brightness and the slightly crooked curve of her mouth, how her eyes lit up like that same magic he'd seen Stiles using and she gave a soft laugh. “Thank you.” She said again, meaningfully. Without any more warning than that, she pulled him into a hug, wings beating at his back until he fell forward into her surprisingly strong-squeezing arms. “I'm glad my son found you for a mate, Alpha Hale.”

 

Derek couldn't help the little grin that twitched up onto his lips, despite the whirlwind of emotion around them from Eva's confession. “I'm glad he did, too.” He muttered, closing his eyes as he listened to Stiles' still even breaths below them.


	34. Chapter 34

The next morning was full of planning and prep for the battle that was looming over them. Scott and Isaac were back, training in the back yard, bearing thin, hand-woven necklaces that Evangeline had made – containing trinkets for strength, stability, and clarity. Stiles was working on some spells - mostly trying to voluntarily invoke that power he had when attacking the angel before. The young angel was with Derek and Eva in the kitchen, as they discussed the plan of attack.

 

“I have an idea.” Eva said, perking up. She snapped her fingers, holding her hands out for Derek's arm. When he hesitated she grinned. “It's a mark, like Genim's, just without the claim. It'll imbue you with a part of my power, give you the ability to neuter any Fallen. This would include, any being that has that darkness in their souls, being the alpha pack. Even if they weren't around any other Fallen than me, their souls would've been tainted since they'd dragged me down into one.”

 

“It's like an instant kill?” Stiles spoke up, distracted from his magic for now to pay attention to them.

 

Eva shrugged. “Not... exactly. It wouldn't kill them instantly, but it would leave them very close to death.” She looked over to Stiles. “With some training, I should be able to teach you the basics of the spell, too.”

 

Derek frowned, looking over the two. Watching how Stiles beamed wide and bright and excited, and how Eva looked happy, just a little hint of sadness in her eyes as Stiles went on about how much he would absolutely love that. He felt his chest ache as he remembered their conversation from last night, the thought of Stiles' happy, excited expression crumbling away when he finds out what's going to happen to the mother he just got back.

 

“Well Derek?” He focused back into the present and looked up at Eva, who was giving him an expectant look. “What do you think?”

 

He cleared his throat and nodded. “Fine, that'd be...” He stood up. “Fine. I'm gonna go check on Scott and Isaac. We can do it some other time later.”

 

With that he left, hearing the last bit of their conversation as Eva focused back on Stiles, instructing him, the soft glow of magic behind him not the only thing that raised the hair on the back of his neck.

 

He by-passed the back door completely, running out the front and shifting as soon as he was out the door, and he kept running from there.

 

 

By the time Derek had gotten control of his emotions again and shifted back to human form, he'd found himself at the cemetery, in the cold rain that'd started pouring about halfway through his run. He let out a breath, and walked down one of the many stone paths that cut through the cemetery toward a row of tombstones near the back of the lot.

 

It was the first time since... in a long time that he'd visited. He can't even really remember being at the funeral. He huffed; right, because he _wasn't_ there. He was drowning himself in guilt and sorrow in the back of Laura's Camaro while she _was_ there, watching their family be buried. She'd set everything up all by herself, even set up their route across country and the schooling and housing for them in New York when she couldn't take being in Beacon Hills anymore, and packed their last remaining belongings by herself before they'd taken off.

 

He smoothed his thumb over his mother's headstone, the smooth granite with an inlay of moonstone reading **TALIA**. He gave the smallest little twitch of a smile before wiping at the mix of rainwater and tears on his face. She did everything perfectly, as always. She wouldn't have made all the mistakes he did. She would've been a perfect alpha if she'd had the chance. She would've known what to do every time Derek didn't. She always had.

 

“Derek?” The alpha startled, choking mid sob as he spun around to see the Sheriff. John looked him over, looked at the torn and tattered clothes barely hanging onto him, then sighed as he started pulling off his jacket. “I'm not going to ask.” He muttered to himself. He started to swing his jacket over Derek's shoulders when the wolf jumped, and he paused, staring over him again. “Son, you may be a... a werewolf, but I'm not going to let you stand out in the cold rain with barely anything on alone, alright?” When Derek didn't move again he started tugging the warm coat over the alpha, speaking softly now that Derek was allowing him closer. “Now, why don't you come back with me to the cruiser and we'll talk about this, okay?”

 

The wolf hesitated, feeling undeserving of the Sheriff's generosity, but he followed.

 

The rain continued pouring down as the Sheriff waited for him to get up into the Cruiser, and he gave Derek a worn-out smile as he pulled himself up into the driver's seat, pulling the door closed and pausing just a moment after the thud of it closing before he spoke. “So... Do you want to talk about it? As far as I've seen you haven't visited. Why drop by now?”

 

Derek chewed on his lip lightly, looking away. He didn't know how to explain it. Seeing Stiles and his mom together it made him yearn for his own family. This was the closest he'd get to being with them again. He stiffened. Stiles' mom... _John's wife_... He didn't even know that she was still alive. Derek paused, and then he could catch the scent of flowers; calla-lilies, specifically, radiating from the back seat. And tears fairly fresh that weren't his own.

 

_Oh._

 

John sighed, shifting the cruiser into drive and pulling out onto the street. “It's alright. We don't have to talk about it. I can drive you home now if you-”

 

“Could we... Go to your home?” Derek muttered, looking up at the Sheriff's surprised face. “I... Um, I wanted to talk to you about something...”

 

John stared at him for a few moments, then finally nodded, turning onto the road in the direction of the Stilinski home. “Alright, son.”

 

Derek felt a slight pang in his chest at the word, but he relaxed back into the seat. Hopefully Stiles wouldn't be upset with him. Or Eva. But... he had a right to know his wife who he'd thought was dead for so long was alive, even if she wouldn't be for much longer... right?

 

 

“Derek?” Stiles called as he walked out into the back lot of the house, where Scott and Isaac had been training since morning. “Mom wanted to ask if...” He trailed off, looking up when he realized Derek, actually, wasn't there. Isaac and Scott looked up at him in confusion.

 

“Derek's not with you?” Scott asked quietly, and Stiles could feel his body sagging, a cold, creeping feeling sinking over him.

 

Without another word, he shot up into the sky, heart pounding in his chest, hoping, praying, that the alpha's hadn't gotten a hold of his mate. Or worse.

 

Stiles swallowed, scanning the ground and trying desperately not to think about all the worst scenarios of where Derek had gone. He might've just decided to go out for a run. Stiles was used to that. Derek did that a lot. Just... not usually when there were people from all sides trying to kill them.

 

He took a deep breath, trying to calm himself as he reached through their thread of connection, trying to feel for the alpha. Derek's emotions were hard to tell, the feeling from them confusing and a little all over the place. He didn't seem like he was in any particular danger aside from that, in fact, he seemed to be with someone safe, or somewhere safe at least. Stiles sighed and continued looking, glancing over the cemetery for a moment.

 

He paused there, jerking to a stop mid air and plummeting a few feet before he caught himself and landed somewhat gracefully by a more than familiar tombstone. One that had calla-lilies in the small vase at the base of the stone, and a single, pure white feather tucked in the vase with them.

 

Dad. Mom was back now, for a while at least – hopefully for a long, long time. Dad had no idea. He needs to know. Stiles frowned. He'd been selfish, he'd missed her so much he sort of... never thought about letting his dad know. He felt a pang of guilt, and shuddered when he could feel a mimic of that feeling that wasn't his, just a few minutes older, only hanging around enough for him to pick up and sense because of it's familiarity.

 

_Derek..._

 

 


	35. Chapter 35

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Stilinski family is reunited, and Derek wonders if he did the right thing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> !!!! OH HI HELLO THERE I'M BACK FROM THE DEAD WITH THIS ALSO BACK FROM THE DEAD OH HAI
> 
> Ahem, anyway, yay, wing!fic is back! After endless months of trying to work on it, and either not being to write, not having time to write, or other things getting in the way of writing this *coughmycomputerdeleteditcough* IT'S BACK!
> 
> Now, I dunno how soon this will be updated again. I'm still busy in RL with work and family and in the process of moving, but I'll try my darnedest to update as much as possible. I love this AU so much and I'm glad so many others loved it too. Even today I'm still getting some comments on it and that just blows my mind, because it hasn't been update in over a year. For those of you who are still reading this and paying attention to it, I love you and I'm sorry I'm terrible at keeping up with this. D:

It was quiet in the Stilinski kitchen. Not a single sound was made in the room, even the entire house, after Derek finished speaking. Quiet enough that Derek, with his enhanced hearing, could scarcely pick out a sound. John's breath had halted, stuttering to a stop at the mention of Eva's name, and his heart seemed to be thudding dully, slowly, like it was in shock, like it didn't want to believe his words.

 

When the Sheriff did finally speak, it was low, soft and quiet, like if his words were spoken too loudly it'd take away from what he'd found out. “Eva... Eva's alive?” He swallowed hard, hand gripping the edge of the table he sat by, knuckles white. “She's... How could she be alive?”

 

Derek opened him mouth to speak, then paused. He could hear the familiar rustle of wings, and a moment later Stiles walked in, his head low, wings tucked up behind him. He glanced up at his dad, who looked halfway to tears. Stiles sighed and rubbed at the back of his neck, nodding, giving a small, simple smile. “Yeah, mom's alive. She'd been alive all along.” He drew in a quick breath. “She'd been taken by alphas. A group of them. Apparently they take our kind to use us for our magic.”

 

There was a long moment of silence, only the sound of Stiles' wings twitching restlessly as he opened his mouth to say something else, then closing it with a small grimace. Finally, he sighed and looked up. “I've known for about half a month. I didn't even think to come straight home to tell you. I just... I was just thinking that I had mom back.”

 

Derek bit into his tongue at that, knowing that though she was back, it would only be for a little while. He had promised not to tell Stiles about that. He watched as John slowly got up from his seat, crossing the room to grab onto his son. Stiles looked scared and painfully sad for a moment, before the father was pulling his son into him, squeezing tight.

 

Stiles let out a breath of relief and his body sagged, wings stretching out slowly. Derek heard John mutter to Stiles, asking if he could see Eva, and he decided he should leave the two alone.

 

Derek turned, leaving the kitchen, focusing in on his own heartbeat and breaths to keep from eavesdropping, and walked outside.

 

It had stopped raining by now; now everything had a fresh, cleansed scent to it, like the rain had taken all the dirt and dark from the world and washed it away. He sucked in the scent, tasting it on his tongue. Clean and clear...

 

A light breeze flowed across the back porch of the Stilinski home, and Derek glanced up to find Eva landing gracefully, her expression a little sad, but at the same time relieved.

 

“When you were gone, I figured you'd come here.” She sighed, smiling when Derek glanced away. “I'm not angry. I just... I wasn't sure how much better it'd be if he knew. For either of us.” Her last words were wistful, tinged with hurt.

 

“I think...” Derek muttered. “I think he'd rather know, though.”

 

Eva didn't say anything else, she simply moved past him, laying a gentle hand on his shoulder as she passed into the house.

 

Derek closed his eyes, leaning back against the wall. He wondered if it really was the right thing to do, to bring John into all of this, but... If my family was alive, I'd want to know...

 

“I think you did the right thing.” Derek opened his eyes, turning toward Stiles' voice. Stiles was across the way from him, leaning against the porch railing, his wings tucked comfortably around his body and curling around his hips. “I can tell you're beating yourself up over it.”

 

Derek stared over at his mate, watching as the younger man stretched his legs out, looking off to the side, watching the wind make a nearby chime dance in the fading light. “I know I should've probably been the one to tell him, but... I had my mom back, after so long, I didn't really think about anyone else.” Stiles sighed, looking away. “If anyone should be beating themselves up over this, it's me.”

 

Derek huffed, pushing away from the wall and crowding in around Stiles. He braced his hands on either side of Stiles' hips against the railing, feeling feathers tickle his wrists, and he ducked his head down into his mate's shoulder. He shook his head, nipping at the boy's skin for even thinking such a thing. “Stop it.” Derek admonished. “You don't get to do that.”

 

Stiles smiled up at him, a little sadly, but with that always present humor and mischievousness. “Nah, that's _your_ shtick, right?”

 

Derek narrowed his eyes. “No, I mean... you got your mother back after thinking she was dead for so long. Anyone else would've blocked all the rest of the world out because of that, even the important things. So you don't get to feel anything other than elated that she's here.”

 

Stiles nodded. “I know.” Stiles chuckled softly. “My dad gave me the same speech while you were out here.” He laughed lightly. “You both are more alike than you think.” Stiles lifted up a hand and started counting away on his fingers. “Always beating down my shame and self-deprecation, always giving me those loving but very 'why-me' looks when I start to get away from myself, always very, very over-protective...”

 

Derek growled, nipping at the three fingers Stiles had up and then pulling the boy into him, gripping firm fingers into his hips through the edges of the wings. He tilted his head down, bringing his lips very close to Stiles'. “And you're very annoying.”

 

Stiles grinned. “The cute kind of annoying, though, right?”

 

Derek rolled his eyes and just kissed up. _Kissing always shuts him up_.

 

Stiles hummed, coiling his arms around Derek's shoulders, letting himself be lifted up onto the railing when Derek moved his hands down to Stiles' thighs. Stiles' wrapped his legs around Derek's body, hooking his ankles behind Derek's thighs, his knees meeting just above Derek's lower back, and he flattened his palms to Derek's shoulder blades. The angel pulled back, just a little bit, to bite at Derek's lower lip as he glanced over the werewolf's face, his pupils blown so full of lust that it made his eyes look black.

 

Derek swallowed, watching Stiles' lick his lips, his now reddened, wet, pouty lips, and felt a full body shudder go through him. He didn't quite know how they got from talks of each other's guilt, to this. He kind of thinks it was his own damn fault. Stiles hummed, looking over the wolf, arousal pulsing off of his body, the scent so think Derek's head felt clouded with it.

 

“ _Ahem_.”

 

Derek jumped out of his skin, scrambling back from Stiles, nearly dropping him over the other edge of the railing, and turned around to see Eva standing there, smirking at them. “U-um... This-”

 

“You better not say 'isn't what it looks like'. Because it's exactly what it looks like.” She shook her head at the two of them. “Oh well, boys will be boys.” She sighed. “Just make sure to come inside soon, fairly decent so John doesn't know. He might not be able to take seeing his _underage_ son being looked at like that.” She paused for a moment, glancing over to Stiles, who was hiding behind his wings, only the bottoms of his legs sticking out below them, the sweetly-sour scent of embarrassment quickly overcoming any lasting scent of arousal. “And dinner's in about fifteen minutes.” She turned, her voice melodic and teasing as she walked away. “Try not to have too much fun, boys.”

 

The click of the door shutting was loud, especially compared to the hollow silence that followed for a few panicked breaths. Then Stiles peered through his wings over to Derek, pouting. “When the next month is gone by, and you're finally ready, can I just stay with you forever, because I dunno how much I'll be able to take coming home to both my parents knowing I'm doing-the-do with you.”

 

Derek flushed, more embarrassed from Stiles' words than the scenario they presented. “How do I love such an idiot like you?”

 

Stiles shrugged. “I ask myself that everyday.”

 

Derek's chest rumbled with another growl and he swooped in, ducking down and slipping inbetween Stiles' barrier of dark feathers and his body. “I'll educate you in detail later tonight exactly how.” He glanced over to the door. “Right now... maybe we should go inside before your parents suspect we're doing anything.”

 

Stiles' blinked up at Derek, then smiled, nodding. “Mmkay.” He tugged on Derek's head. “Just one more kiss first...”

 


End file.
